#vasily lantsov

[stromuprisahat]

Siege and Storm- Chapter 22 (Leigh Bardugo)

We often talk about how the Darkling kindly resolved Nikolai's issue about getting rid of his legitimate brother, but how about that time, when a single (1) nichevo'ya did a better job of protecting Alina, than the Blade Boy during his whole "Captain of the Guard" career?!

The shadow babies are quite obviously made of Aleksander- not only they don't harm Alina during the Siege, they eliminate a threat to her as soon as it arises. Meanwhile the man himself isn't even anywhere to be seen yet.

The King of Getting Shit Done™.

[everythinggrishaverse2047]

Slap or Kiss

Summary - Sometimes you aren't sure if you should slap or kiss Nikolai. This is one of those times. 1.1k words

✨⚓️

“My mother was an oyster,” Nikolai says with a grin before winking at you. “And I’m the pearl.”

“Oh Saints, that was horrible Nikolai Lantsov,” you say with a laugh. This was one of those moments where you really weren’t sure if you should slap him or kiss him. This was always how it went, every evening. You and Nikolai finding yourselves tangled up in the sheets of his bed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace, away from the world and reality.

“I thought you enjoyed my good looks and my wit,” Nikolai responds with a chuckle before pushing himself up on one of his elbows to look at you, lips curving upwards into a grin. It was the kind of grin where you weren’t sure if you should slap him or kiss him.

“No. Quite the opposite,” you tease in response. You prop yourself up on your own elbow.

“The wit or the looks,” the King of Ravka inquires his grin widening. A few golden curls fall into his eyes.

You brush his hair away before responding with a grin of your own. “Both.”

Nikolai’s heart skips a beat at your touch. His free hand brushes over your hip, tracing small circles with his thumb, his gaze never leaving your face. “Now that’s just cruel. I’ve always believed that I’m––”

You cut him off immediately. “Don’t you dare call yourself boyishly handsome again,” you warn.

He looks almost offended. “Why not? What’s wrong with boyishly handsome?”

“You said it, that’s what’s wrong with it,” you respond, trying to suppress a smile still deciding if you should slap him or kiss him.

“Am I meant to believe that you don’t find me terribly handsome,” Nikolai challenges playfully, eyebrows raising slightly as you drop your head back onto the pillow.

You laugh in response, cheeks going slightly rosy. “On the contrary, I find you as beautiful as an unmoving rock with no shine or shimmer.”

He repeats his mock offended look before wrapping his arms around your waist, and half pressing himself on top of you. His chest against yours. “I’m a rock? I suppose that is the reason you cannot seem to get me off of you.”

You half-heartedly try to push him off of you but in truth you want to stay like that forever. Your legs remain tangled with his. “Whatever would Vasily think if he found us here,” you ask with a smile.

“I’m wounded. You lay here with me, yet all you can think about is my brother,” Nikolai asks before dramatically placing his hand over his heart, falling to the side of you.

You rolled your eyes in response before shaking your head. Yes, you certainly could get used to this. After a few moments of silence Nikolai pulls you back into his arms. Your forehead rests against his shoulder as he ghosts his fingers up and down your bare spine. You stay like for a while, a long while. At random times he presses kisses across your face––he middle of your forehead, your temple, cheeks, lips, chin, forehead again. “I meant to talk to you about something earlier today when we passed in the corridor.”

“About what,” you ask him, the Ravkan King’s fingers still gently running up and down your spine.

“Us,” he mutters.

“Mm?” You ask him before he gently presses his lips to yours.

One of his hands travels to your cheek, thumb gently brushing over it, back and forth methodically. The hand on your back pauses just below your shoulder blade. “I have a question. What if I asked you to marry me?”

“What?” You ask, sounding shocked. You did not expect that. You and Nikolai had been seeing each other secretly for almost a year. You preferred it that way. For one, you weren’t be closely inspected and watched by everyone in the court, and for two you were convinced the court and perhaps the people of Ravka would never except you as Nikolai’s choice. You certainly didn’t come from royalty. You were not a Grisha with fancy powers. You were  someone who he met by chance. Nikolai’s words pulled you from your own head.

“Will you marry me?” He whispers.

“You and I both know that wouldn’t be wise right now.” You give him a sympathetic look.

This time Nikolai looks actually shocked. Shocked because when would he choose what’s supposedly wise to Ravka’s court when’s he and the Ravkan people are too damn in love with you. “Who cares about what’s wise? I love you and as much as you might not believe it, the people love you too. From what they’ve seen of your work. All I know is that I love you and you are what would be good for the people. Forget about the damn court. I love you and I want you as my spouse. To hell with the fallout. So for Saints’ sake––for my sake, marry me,” he says. He’s clearly determined. His gaze is fixed on you. He doesn’t care about logic, or the flaws in the plan he just wants to be your husband, your lover and best friend from now through eternity.

“So the King of Ravka plans to keep his marriage secret, is that your plan? How would you manage that,” you ask him, skeptical of the entire situation.

Nikolai pulls you even closer to him if that is even possible. “What do you mean ‘secret’? I want everyone to know who and what you are to me. My best friend, my partner, my soulmate, my Queen. To hell with everyone who can’t accept us, but there will be no secrecy on my part. I will stand by the person I love, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks.”

“You and your damn mouth,” you say with a breathy laugh. “I will marry you one condition. We slowly wade in. We don’t tell anyone we are engaged, we get people used to the idea of us then we announce our engagement, and then we get married.”

“As long as I’m with you. Secretly together, engaged, married, whatever.” There is a momentary pause before Nikolai grins again, that same stupid one that makes you unsure if you should slap him or kiss. “I never heard a definitive yes from you, Darling. Will you marry me?”

You let out another breathy laugh before deciding that kissing him was the better option at the moment. Nikolai’s arms tighten around your middle, facing coming closer to you. Then his lips are on yours and you think Yes. The kiss was definitely the right choice.

[telugxrl13]

guys vasily is just a horse girl ୨ৎ

[corpsebasil]

Vasily’s Wife… Part Two?

Warnings:, none for this one

I’m in love with him your honor

“Prince Zorin’s twentieth nameday should be the grandest celebration the kingdom has seen thus far.” Maester Ronnell is saying, gesturing with a lot of enthusiasm for someone in his seventies. “Sun Cast has been celebrating all week; we cannot let such slums outshine the palace.”

“I doubt Sun Cast is outshining the palace in any way other than a distinct lack of clothing.” You drawl, running a pointed nail across the smooth wood in front of you. From your left, legs crossed and smirking, Prince Nikolai lets out a small laugh. You ignore it. “But I agree. The palace will hold a feast at the end of the week. Afterwards, food should be sent to the surrounding cities of Ravka. Let the common people know Prince Zorin cares for them as well.”

“Yes, yes…” the Maester nods, stroking his beard. “Prince Zorin will like that. It’s good for the uh…normal folk to…realize who cares..” he trails off, seeming distracted, and the prince beside you sits up straighter.

“It was your idea,” Nikolai objects, looking to you. “let the ‘normal folk’ know their Queen chose to share the celebration with them.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” You snap, turning your gorgon gaze onto him, and the prince weakens visibly. His brow furrows, mouth turning downwards at the corners, eyes seeming to plead for…for what? This has been normal for the past year and a half or so. Ever since he.. “The Crown will act in Prince Zorin’s interests as he is heir. As far as I’m concerned, any decision made in this council is in Zorin’s name. Correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ser Dominik, recently appointed Captain of the Royal Guard, speaks after a tense pause, all eyes on you and the prince. “While we know of your influence, we appreciate the way you..allow others to be seen as well.”

You, Nikolai, and Dominik all seem to be locked in a three-way of eye-contact; you, trying to figure out if Dominik is just yapping instead of helping, Nikolai wanting to be supported and feeling slightly betrayed by his best friend’s interjection, and Dominik, looking pained as he forces a nervous smile.

You break the pause.

“Thank you, Ser Dominik.” You say, nodding once, and quickly change the subject. “Now. We need to discuss the recent skirmishes at the Eastern border. If I hear about one more soldier pissing themselves over some vagrants I think I’ll lose my head.” The room relaxes into easy chuckles, the men around you more comfortable when you take charge of these meetings.

Ignoring Nikolai’s wounded stare, you glance to a dark-haired man with a large broadsword sitting attentively across the table. “Master Ralgar? Your report?”

—

Your feet carry you swiftly to your rooms that evening, a trio of dutiful ladies accompanying you. They whisper between themselves as you walk, your ears pricked for information as you watch the tapestries, the windows, and greet guards and attendants with an easy smile.

“She’s with child,” one girl is saying, keeping her voice low as if you can’t hear her. “I mean…she looks it anyways.”

“She is not with child.” Your closest handmaiden, Thalia, says. “She’s a liar and a bitch and—”

“Ladies.” You start calmly, glancing over your shoulder. They all stiffen, faces turned into masks of complete innocence. You almost laugh. “Just because someone looks pregnant doesn’t mean they are.”

“She’s lying about it!” Thalia bursts, then blushes profusely. “I mean, it’s that red-haired woman. The one Vasily sent away. I think she’s trying to get compensation or something.”

You smirk.

“Compensation?”

“I don’t know I think she just feels slighted.”

“As she should be. My husband is a man whose interests change like the tides.”

“But—” Thalia stops, glancing at the two other red-faced girls. “I mean, aren’t you upset?” Oh, Thalia. Saints bless the girl. If anyone cares about you, it’s her.

“Why would I be?” You ask, turning your head to continue your walk. “It’s one less bitch in court. As you said.”

The giggles that follow bring a small smile to your lips.

“Your Majesty!” The four of you pause, your head turning a fraction as a boy runs up behind. He’s out of breath by the time he stops, hands on his hips. He holds up a hand almost comically, as if you all weren’t already waiting, before he speaks. “It’s—Prince Zorin. He’s here early. He requests your presence in the Throne Room.”

“Requests my—” you straighten, forcing a placid, icy little smile onto your beautiful face. The boy shrinks back. “Of course. Lead the way.” You gesture towards the hall and the boy spins on his heel, guiding you and your handmaidens towards the room in question.

-

Zorin is lounging dramatically on the throne when you enter. His eyes, coal black, zero in on you as you approach. Your bow to him is almost amusingly low, the courtiers lingering on the sidelines beginning to whisper the second your eyes meet the Prince’s.

“My Queen.” He drawls, giving you a twisted smile. Saints, sometimes you wonder if there’s actually a real person underneath that mask of hate. “I have come from Sun Cast to await this weekends festivities. I hope it’s not a bother that I’m early?”

“Your presence is always desired, my prince.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t do that.” He laughs, leaning forward to peer closer at you. When you tense, straightening up, he clicks his fingers and points at you. “There, there—you see?” He looks towards no one in particular. “She hates me. I told—”

“Is there something I can help you with, my prince?” You interrupt, clasping your hands together placidly in front of you.

Zorin pauses.

“Yes.” He nods. “Yes. I’d like someone to attend the parties in Sun Cast for the next few days. Someone…representing the royal crown.” His oily little smile is back and you try to repress a shudder. “Surely the Queen would enjoy a holiday.”

“My business is here, Your Highness. I’m sure—”

“—that you’ll come back next week nice and tan and relaxed? I agree.”

“But—"

“My uncle will accompany you.”

At that, you laugh, high and strangled, your eyebrows raised high.

“Nikolai? You cant send—” There’s an uncomfortable clearing of a throat and you glance to your left, watching as Nikolai approaches a few feet farther from where he’d been hidden inside the crowd of onlookers. Your mouth dries as you take in the tired look on his face, his eyes a deep, vast blue as he watches you. “Nikolai, I—”

“It’s just a few days, Your Majesty.” Nikolai says softly, forcing a quick smile. “Surely that’s alright?”

Caught in a bind, you glance from Prince Zorin’s smirk to Nikolai’s wounded smile. You sigh and nod, resisting the urge to run a hand through your hair.

“Alright.” You say, throwing your hands up. “Alright. Fine.”

-

“It’s not so bad.” Nikolai says, glancing around the large bedroom in Prince Zorin’s home in Sun Cast. “Hardly a palace but the view…” you were ignoring him as best you could as you unpacked the bags for ladies put together but now you glance over, watching his slender hands pull back a large, sheer curtain.

The sunlight is orange across the floors that always seem to hold a bit of sand, a light dusting that crackles under your bare feet as you approach the window by his side. He’s right—the view is…wow.

As far as the eye can see are red and orange brick homes, bright banners and tapestries, ribbons of shimmering purple and blue weaving between rooftops. Tan people of all ages and shapes linger in the streets below, laughter and gossip filling the warm breeze. Nikolai, beside your, gently pressing his fingertips against your lower back before he points to something in the distance, steering your gaze there.

“See that?” He murmurs, keeping his voice low, almost sensual. You meet his gaze for a brief second before following his finger again, towards the ocean beyond. “No, there.”

“I don’t see—”

“Look, white sails.” He urges, his hand now tapping your chin a fraction. You see it, then—a large ship. Multiple large ships. “People from the Southern cities—”

“This is a Southern city—"

“More South. Shh, wait—” he chuckles, placing a finger over your lips to shush you when you try to interrupt again. “Let me speak, woman.”

You move your head away but can’t help but feel amused by his boyish grin, his hand on your back slowly flattening until his warm palm is resting against the base of your spine.

“I’m listening.” You sigh, raising a brow. The dimples in his cheeks show when he smiles a fraction more, pulling you closer to point out the ships again.

You listen to him talk for a little while, explaining different sigils and names while you nod, somehow not feeling the urge to move away. In fact, when his hand begins to rub up and down your spine slowly, voice still low and soft, you relax, feeling the tension begin to leave your muscles.

“I won’t bother you here.” He says suddenly, making your eyes dart back to his. The blue is somber again, that new, slightly pained twinge to them that’s existed since that night in your study. “I promise. I know I’ve—I mean, I know you—“

“Nik?” You interrupt softly, reaching out to touch his face. Your grip his jaw in your hand and nod once, not allowing him to turn away. “I know. What happened we…I mean, it cannot happen again.”

“Of course.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Yes.”

But your grip tightens a fraction and he gazes down at you, eyes darkening with a hint of lust as he subtly licks his bottom lip to wet it. Your eyes track the movement and you follow it, your own mouth going a bit slack.

“Good.” You finally blurt, stepping back before he can close the gap. “Glad that’s settled.”

“Of course.” He coughs lightly, almost tripping when he turns quickly towards the door. He pauses at the last second. “Meet me at sunset, by the way.”

“What for?”

His grin is slightly feline.

“You haven’t seen the best parts of Sun Cast.”

Wheww

[best-nun-tournament]

Round 1, Match 5

Vinsmoke Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji (One Piece) vs Nikolai and Vasily Lantsov (Grishaverse/Shadow and Bone)

Propaganda under break

Vinsmoke Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji

Three quadruplets born with superhuman abilities thanks to their dad being an egotistical jerk. They’ve all had their emotions and sense of morality stripped away, leaving only cocky asshats that regularly beat up others for their own enjoyment. The third quadruplet was born without these abilities, so they constantly attacked and mocked him, bringing him to tears on a near constant basis. When he compliments the cooking of one of their staff while protecting her from having a dish thrown at her face, they later find her and attack her for revenge. They’re never given their comeuppance, save for being tied to some chairs and nearly killed. This does not change their personalities. Most of the blame is put on their father (which makes sense, he sucks), but it cannot be denied that the three of them suck too. Just to a lesser degree.

Nikolai and Vasily Lantsov

Vasily is all around pretty terrible and Nikolai does not like him. Nikolai mentions once that he thinks Vasily tried to poison him when he was twelve. Their dynamic is pretty much Nikolai ripping into him for his horrible decisions and Vasily countering with ‘at least I’m a Lantsov’ because Nikolai’s a bastard. Then Vasily dies

[castleofravens]

rip alvar vacker you would’ve loved vasily lantsov

[the-lonewriter]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo, Shadow and Bone (TV), Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov & Vasily Lantsov Characters: Nikolai Lantsov, Vasily Lantsov, Mir (Vasily's war horse), Ivan (The Grisha Trilogy) Additional Tags: Amplifiers (The Grisha Trilogy), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ravkan Fjerdan War, Serious Injuries, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, First Army (Grishaverse), Ravka (Grishaverse), Fjerda (Grishaverse) Series: Part 2 of This country gets us in the end

[fitzsavorycracker]

When Vasily died Nikolai really just said womp womp and moved on

[ricardian-werewolf]

2. If I didn't care, would I feel this way?

Summary: Alina settles in at the Great Palace, and comes to learn that sometimes the friends one makes come from the most unlikely of places. With her powers beginning to show at last, Genya and Nikolai reconnect and take Alina under their wings. Nikolai recollects on his childhood and begins to come to terms with being home.

Notes; none

Word count: 4.2k

Chapter below the cut.

The Great Palace, Os Alta.

Alina’s legs ached as she let Nikolai guide her to her new chambers. 

Up they went a series of dizzyingly tight stairs, through endless marble and gold-gilded hallways, until they reached a set of white double doors with gold handles carved in the shapes of stag-antlers.

“Your rooms. Genya Safin should be along in a moment or two.” Nikolai pushed the doors open and stepped into a wide receiving room of rich velvet settees, sofas, plush, cloud-like carpets and heavy drapes. All of the room was upholstered in the royal colour of emerald green, with gold edging. 

“Wait. This isn’t the little Palace.” Alina murmured, pulling off her boots, as mud and dirt soaked they were, she wasn’t about to make some poor servant clear up her messes. Nikolai had already changed into a pair of deep green slippers monogrammed with his symbol - a fox running under a crescent moon.

“No, it’s not.” Nikolai threw the drapes wide, and pushed up the sash. The windows, arranged in a bay formation, gave a visage of Os Alta sprawled out before them. “As a member of my household, you’ll be taking your residence in the Great Palace.”

“Why?” Alina examined the solid gold samovar and clicked her tongue at the lack of tea. The spout was in the shape of a stag-head. Padding across the room, she glared up at the massive landscape watercolour of the woods where Morozovas stag was said to roam with its herd.

“Tradition, according to my father at least.” Nikolai rubbed the back of his neck with his palm. “You’re not a prisoner. You’ll have a room in the Little Palace as well, once your training starts. The Fabrikators are working on it as we speak, though it’ll be a different kind of grandness to this. For now…” 

He paused, looking both bashful, and sheepish. Alina glanced over her shoulder at him, her brow raised in curiosity. 

“I don’t want you to think that I’m…” He paused again. “Using you. That you’ll just be some sort of trophy.” 

That was exactly what I was thinking. Alina thought, looking genuinely surprised and pleased at the opposite occurring. Nikolai went back to scratching the back of his neck, then looked up as a ginger-haired woman dressed in the white kefta of the palace servants stepped into the room.

“Ah, Genya!” Nikolai murmured, coming over to the woman. She hugged him tightly and kissed one another’s cheeks in rapid succession. “Nikolasha, I’d no idea you’d be home!” She smiled, and looked past him.

Alina couldn’t help herself. She scowled darkly at this woman, and Genya sighed. “Ah. It seems like your Sun Summoner is possessive.” raising a brow, Genya stepped over to Alina and began examining her.

“She’s half-Shu.”

“Genya.” Nikolai lit a cigarette. “It’s not kind to speak about Alina like she isn’t here.”

“Ah.” Genya blinked. “My apologies.” Her expression softened, and she bowed her head. 

“I’m Genya Safin, and the Queen has assigned me as your personal Tailor.”

“So you mend my clothes?” Alina blinked. Weren’t there servants to do that? What did she need this devilishly pretty ginger woman for, then?

“Not exactly. Let’s see.” Genya stepped over to a brown box with gold edging that looked to Alina's eyes like needles and spools of thread. Lifting the lid, Genya’s fingers dipped into the different little inner boxes, pulling out a string of black beads, a vial of gold dust, and a small bulb of some dried flower.

Nikolai examined some part of her room as Genya sat Alina down at her dressing table and handed her a small hand mirror made of gold embellished with sapphires. The sheer opulence of everything was almost overwhelming. 

“I’m seriously going to be part of Prince Nikolai’s household?” Alina breathed as Genya ran her fingers over her hair. The limp curls sprang into neat coils and her hair became an inky black, weeks of grease and oils simply vanishing in an instant. Alina almost dropped the mirror.

“Saints!”

“She’s pretty damn awesome, no?” Nikolai breathed from where he stood by the fireplace, examining the wall of her room that led to her bathing chamber for some reason. Shadows curled about his shoulders like a stole, and he seemed almost… Ill at ease.

“Yes.” Alina ducked her head. “Though I thought it rude to swear.”

“He’s the second son of the Tsar. He can do what he pleases.” Genya sniffed, gently pinching the bulb’s tip in her fingers. Those fingers brought out Alina’s blush and lightened her skin, assisting in the healing process her light explosion had kickstarted.

“The testers found me when I was 5, and I was brought to the Little Palace then. As a gift for our wonderful Tsarina Tatiana. Technically, I’m not supposed to be Tailoring you, but..” Genya’s gaze turned to Nikolai, who gave her a crooked grin. “Prince Nikolai owes me a few favours. Plus, I like his section of the palace far better than anywhere else.”

“His section-” Alina glanced over at Nikolai.

“The entire western wing of the palace is mine. Though it’s mostly shut up for the year. I only like to be back when everyone else is on a hunt. It seems, however…” Nikolai crossed over to a dark oak side table and lifted a silver serving dish to reveal a plate of crisp and fluffy blini. Stabbing a few with a fork, he picked up a plate and crossed to Alina.

“I suspect you last had a meal… last night?”

“Has it only been a day?” Alina scoffed, taking the fork and plated stack of blini from Nikolai. She set to shoving the delicious cakes into her mouth as Genya continued tailoring her and Nikolai went about embroidering the compass rose onto a discarded First Army uniform.

“You embroider?” She asked, sipping a glass of sugared tea. He nodded without looking at her, reaching over in his seat to turn down the gramophone playing Beethoven with a swift wrist-flick. 

“Helps calm my mind. That, or I love to tinker.” He unfurled a whole roll of gold thread and set back to embroidering in her ranking icon as a private on the lower part of the sleeve. The pluck of the needle, along with the crackling and pop of the spring hickory logs made the whole space feel largely intimate. Safe.

Soon enough, however, the uniform was being tugged over Alina’s head by Genya, and with Nikolai’s help, Alina was veiled, her shoes slipped on and guided through the Great Palace to the throne room. As they walked, Alina gripped Nikolai’s arm in her right hand and Genya’s hand in her left.

“You’re doing wonderfully. Just walk straight, and don’t lift the veil. My father likes the idea of a fragile First Army girl who’s not seen combat.” Nikolai murmured in her ear. Alina nodded.

“How’s Dominik?” Genya asked, cocking her head. Nikolai looked over Alina’s head, and mouthed: Banned from the Great Palace still. But he’s at the Little Palace. Probably hiding out with David.

Genya nodded silently, and sighed. The Grisha were going to shun her the moment Alina showed off her powers. Nikolai hadn’t dressed in his deep green kefta. The Darkling would tear him a new one for that. If he had his way, Nikolai would probably come dressed in his work clothes. The Volkvolny was docked in Os Kervo, after all. Plus, his sailing boats were already in the water after the Spring thaw broke the 4-inch thick ice-sheet on the Great Lake blocking off the Little and Great Palaces from one another.

“Are you planning to go sailing once this is over?” Genya queried.

“You sail?” Alina breathed, almost lifting her veil. Nikolai coughed, gently adjusted the gold spanish lace and Shu silk blend, and nodded. “Yes. I do. It’s a pastime.” He explained quickly as they descended the long, wide and expansive marble stairs to the Palace’s entrance hall. 

A whole motley of servants of the palace, armed guards of the Darkling and Tsar, and rogue Grisha flanked the double-golden doors leading into the throne Room with its double golden domes, and Nikolai paused.

“Moi Soverenyi.” He bowed to the Darkling, who sneered at Nikolai in his court dress, and took Alina’s hand.

“You tailored her?” Kirigan asked Genya, who nodded. Tugging on the collar of her white kefta, Genya disappeared after Nikolai through a set of double doors in the same white as Alina’s room. 

“She’ll be fine.” Nikolai lit another cigarette and passed it to Genya, who took two puffs and coughed. “Saints. How can you take these?”

“It’s for my nerves.” Nikolai dropped the cigarette to the carpet and swiftly ground it under his heel. He hated being amongst his parents as much as Genya did, and he wasn’t blind to the sins of his father against her. “Dominik’s been working on another round of poisons for you. These should be more potent.” He murmured, reaching for her hand. “I’ll try and fix something, this time, I promise.”

Those words had been the last words Nikolai had said to Genya at their first meeting when she was 5 and he 6. Now, they were 20 and 19, and the sins had only doubled amongst them both. Genya deserved better, and Ravka deserved a better Tsar than Nikolai’s father. His mother was just as bad, and he hated her just as much. Anyone with two brain cells would realise that Nikolai and Aleksander III looked nothing alike. Where Nikolai’s jaw was thin and arrow-sharp, his nose straight and eyes a bright hazel, Aleksander’s chin was ruddy, fattened with years of poor diet and health. His eyes were a watery blue, his hair the colour of winter-wheat.

Nikolai and Genya’s secretive location in a lesser servant’s hallway in the double-layered walls of the throne room wouldn’t stay secret for long. With a glance behind them, Nikolai grabbed Genya’s hand and the two ghost-children-turned-adults slipped into the marble and gold throne room. 

Taking their places on the dias, Nikolai stood behind his mother, who gave him a glance of pure, child-like adoration. Genya took her place at her other side, and tried to stay as far as she could from the Tsar as possible. On the Tsar’s other side, Vasily leaned forward on his elbows against his father’s throne’s back. He glared through a monocle at the sight of Alina coming up to the dias. Her booted feet made not even a whisper of noise in the baby-blue carpeting that stretched from the golden double doors to the marble dias, and the Darkling beside her radiated possessive delight. Despite the beard and dark eyes, Nikolai remembered with a shudder just how old the man was, and settled his face into an expression of nonchalance. The instances of these court demonstrations were few and far between, but he for one wanted to see Alina’s powers on display.

“Lift the veil, child.” The Tsar rumbled, and Nikolai smirked to himself. Let his parents express their horror over another Sobachka gracing their halls. Between Genya, Dominik, and now Alina, Nikolai had a habit of collecting the mutts that no one else cared for. He put his palm under his chin and winked at his father as Aleksander’s gaze turned to him full of angry ire.

“Is this her?” Tatiana leaned forward, fingering the diamond choker adorning her wrinkled throat. Time had not been kind to either of his parents, something Nikolai delighted in. For while he maintained a youthful glow for much longer than anyone expected, his parents had fallen deep into the sins of their own makings, and it suited them. He winked at Alina, who blushed and dipped her head.

“Oh, I don’t know, tell her Good morning in Shu?” Tatiana murmured weakly.

“She speaks Ravkan, Madraya.” Nikolai murmured in reply, softly enough to not cause Alina any public embarrassment. Her eyes were wide enough already. Cocking his head to Genya, he signed: 

She looks ready to bolt. Can you arrange for her to take dinner in her room and keep the Grisha off her back till mid-week?

Genya nodded, signing back swiftly: Of course. Will you be dining with her?

No such chance. The bear and the lapdog will want me to dine with them. Perhaps I can figure out why I’ve been recalled back-

Nikolai stopped signing as the Darkling spread his hands and shadows filled the room. He’d been saying something about liberation, or words to that effect, and Nikolai hadn’t been paying attention. His mind was too distracted trying to figure out the schematics of Alina’s kefta. Emerald green with gold embroidery and sunburst buttons. Matching boots. Fox-fur edging. Red fur.

In the darkness, Nikolai watched the Darkling’s hand reach Alina’s wrist. A part of him felt sick, as he remembered the feeling of the Darkling’s hand on his own wrist in that cold, freezing winter of his 14th half-year name-day celebration. It’d been so dark, so… snowy, when the Darkling had taken his born gifts and warped them beyond belief. The darkness had just been one facet.

He hoped that Alina would thrive under his protection. She would not be like him. Broken, abused and hidden behind a mask of lies. Nikolai straightened as light filled the room, blasting back the darkness. He could see the wonder on his parents’s faces, on Alina’s, and he sighed. The warmth of her light felt cleansing and holy, quite unlike his darkness.

When the light settled and the lamps flared anew, claps and cheers rang out. Nikolai stepped around his mother’s throne at his father’s behest and settled his feet easily on the second step down the dias. 

“My son, Grand Duke Nikolai, has become the Sun Summoner’s liege-lord, protector, and confidante. She will become part of his household, as tradition demands, and take rooms in both the Little and Great Palaces. As his vassal, Miss…” Aleksander paused.

“Starkov. Assistant Junior cartographer, formerly.” Nikolai provided, catching his father’s dirty glare at Alina. He sniffed, settled his weight more evenly in his feet and let his father continue.

“Will be provided with an annual annum of 400 gold vlacki per seasonal period, and may wish to have that money sent as compensation to any family member she desires. Along with that, she will train with General Kirigan and his…” Aleksander paused again to cough into a provided handkerchief. Blood spotted the edge. Nikolai grinned to himself. It seemed Genya’s poison was working.

“Grisha. Now, please, disperse. I trust the Sun summoner has many great things to accomplish, and I do not wish to delay her.” Aleksander looked up at Vasily, whose monocle hung from its chest pin. His face was still contorted in dumb shock.

Nikolai stepped down the dias, hands in his pockets and whistling a jaunty tune as the Grisha filed out according to their order, and the Darkling went with them, sending a dark scowl at Nikolai as he departed. However, it was the Apparat’s rat-like nostril-twitch that sent Nikolai’s pulse spiking.

“All well, Moi Tsarevich?” Alina murmured, looping her hand through his arm. Nikolai blinked, smiled. “Oh. Yes.” He grinned, and waved a swift goodbye to his parents. Genya drifted easily after them, a secretive grin shared between the three of them. 

***

That evening, as a rainstorm of epic proportions roared outside, Alina lay splayed out on her plush velvet sofa. By her head, her phonograph played a rotating assortment of different classical pieces, though the 1812 Overture was currently blasting at full volume. Nikolai was humming along, his feet tucked under him as he sat with a tea-tray on his lap and was dabbing at a canvas print with a watercolour brush. By his feet, maps of the True sea lay spread across the chaise longue’s surface.

“Word is, from the Little Palace, that a certain Sun Summoner shunning her first dinner for the comfort of her chambers is something rather unladylike.” Genya announced as she kicked the door shut with the heel of her foot. Balanced on a silver serving tray were three bowls of borscht, with smaller china bowls of sour cream. Piled high on a plate were slices of rye bread.

“I thought the Grisha ate like peasants. And weren’t you supposed to be at dinner?” Alina asked Nikolai, who snorted.

“It’s better to be full when dining with my parents. Dinner lasts for so long that by the time the courses show, it’s gone the midnight bell. All they do is argue, or round-about discuss Vasily’s achievements and my failures. Plus, I always have to curry favour with them, deflect questions from Vasily on which girl I tumbled this time-” He looked up from his painting of a golden sunne in splendour and sighed. “- I don’t tumble girls often, and besides, it’s almost expected when you’re of my social standing. My celibacy is something my mother finds more scandalous than the multiple bastards Vasily sires in a given harvest season.” 

“Plus, the Grisha do eat like peasants. Kirigan says its to keep us humble. Whatever that means.” Genya placed the platter down on the low-set tea-table in the centre of Alina’s private sitting room. She carefully laid out soup, spoons, the sour cream, rye bread, and glasses of tea and kvas. Nikolai however took a glass of brandy, something Alina didn’t know he imbibed in.

“Be warned. Most Grisha breakfasts are of poached fish and rye bread.” 

Alina sniffed in distaste. “Anything you can do to alleviate that?” She looked at Nikolai, who nodded and went back to painting. “Technically since I’m your liege-lord, you’re under my command, not the Darkling. The whole matter of all this will no doubt drive him insane, but not even he can go against a crown-ordained law. Unless he wants to find the First Army’s bayonets in his throat whenever he sleeps.”

“As for food.” He dipped his brush in water and set the whole platter aside. “I control what you eat, how much, and so on. Which, since I’m not the kind of man to be that controlling, you’re free to have the whole of the Great Palace’s kitchen to yourself.”

“Saints.” Alina looked at him in amazement. “Doesn’t this whole power dynamic strike you as strange? One moment we’re meeting in a crowded mess tent, and the next you suddenly are in command of my every movement.”

“I’m planning to be as lax as possible. Plus, you’re what? 18?”

Alina nodded. 

“Right. And I’m 20. Not at all strange. Anyways, you’re an adult. You can do whatever you bloody well wish, as far as I’m concerned.” Nikolai sipped at his soup, then as the need for food consumed him, he turned to inhaling the portion.

“Nikolai has a small issue of forgetting when he needs to eat.” Genya explained as she lightly buttered her slice of rye bread and added a portion of goose liver pate to it. “He’s a poor dining companion in the eyes of his parents, but we’ve eaten together since we were children, and once Dominik joined us, the idea of Nikolai sitting down for dinner was finally not a foreign concept.” 

“I was a very active child.” Nikolai replied swiftly, shooting Genya a glance. She shrugged, chewed her slice of bread. Alina dipped her spoon in the borscht, noting the lack of beetroot. “Is the royal version of this made without beets?”

“Oh, it is. But the cook didn’t want this portion looking too red. Otherwise Prince Vasily gets testy.”

“He doesn’t like blood or things that look like it. Which is strange, since he never saw a day of active combat.” Nikolai grumbled as he wiped at his chin with his napkin and set to scooping up the drippings with a piece of bread. “I’ve killed and I’m fine with it.” His grumblings turned softer as he chewed on the bread and slugged back his glass of brandy.

“I miss my old cook.” He pressed his chin against his palm. “Wonderful man. Doused things in too much butter.”

“You have a fondness for butter. And salt.” Genya rolled her eyes. “I had to lock the salt away after a while. He would easily put it on everything.”

“Within moderation!” Nikolai protested. He sat back, kicked his feet up on the tea table, and rubbed a hand over his face. “Please tell me I don’t have to go to this dinner with my parents, Gen…” He groaned.

“You do, Nikolasha.” She sighed, patting his hand. “I’ll walk you over, since your mother will no doubt want me to tailor you. But then-” She turned her gaze back to Alina. “I’ll be right back to help you get ready for bed. Or we can stay up, pop popcorn over the fireplace and gossip. These kinds of rainy evenings are the best for books and quiet conversation, in my opinion.” Genya squeezed Alina’s hand.

She smiled. “I’ve never really had any friends besides Mal, and what with Zoya’s cruel remark… I have a feeling it’ll be like how it was back there.” She murmured, rubbing at her nose with her finger.

“Nonsense. You have us! And Dominik, once I figure out how to sneak him in.” Nikolai grinned.

“Are you two…” Alina looked between Nikolai and Genya. “Together?”

A beat of silence passed, and then Genya burst out laughing. Nikolai snorted, and suppressed his laughter behind his napkin, his feet kicking out as he snickered into the linen.

“No.” He squeaked. “We’ve been friends since we were children. But no, Genya had her head turned by a certain fabrikator with glasses.”

“His name is David.” Genya hit Nikolai with her dinner napkin, and wiped her streaming eyes with a tissue stuck up her sleeve. “And yes, Nikolai is correct. We grew up together in the Great Palace.” She explained. “But I can see why you’d assume that.” As Genya patted Alina’s hand, the sun summoner’s face turned red.

“Bloody hell.” She groaned. “My apologies.” 

“None needed. We get it. I mean, I half wanted to ask if that boy… Mal, had tumbled you. The look on his face when he saw you in the Darkling’s carriage made me think so.”

“No!” Alina breathed. “No, we’ve been friends since our orphanage days. Like…” She looked between Genya and Nikolai. “You both, it seems.”

“Ah.” Genya nodded at Nikolai. “Told you so.”

“Oh, of course you’d know.” Nikolai snipped, turning to his watercolours. He grumbled as he squinted at the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. “Saints, is it nine bells already? I should get going.”

“When’re you supposed to be there?” Alina asked as she sipped her glass of kvas.

“By ten bells, but I want to be early so I get off on the right foot. It’s been… how long?” Nikolai asked Genya as she straightened his mussed tie, combed his hair and spritzed him with eau de cologne. Along with that, she tailored his hair to give it a dimmer streak, and wiped away a scar he’d gotten from fighting Drüskelle. 

“Anything else?” Genya asked as she turned back to her box. 

Nikolai bit his lip. 

“Nah. I’ll be fine. If I come back busted up, you’ll know.” He cut a glance to the door, and straightened his evening kefta’s lapels. The cummerbund at his waist was bottle-green, his heraldic colour. The fox fur of his kefta shimmered in the gas-lamps' light that were scattered throughout the room. 

Genya sighed, but nodded. Gathering up the dishes, she carried the tray to the door and Nikolai pulled the bell-cord for her. A serving maid materialised in the doorway as if by magic, and took the tray, as well as Genya’s box of tools. 

“Alright.” Nikolai spun on his heel and came back to Alina. He kissed the knuckles of her offered hand, which made the girl blush, and cast his gaze to Genya. “Take care of her, will you?”

“Obviously.” Genya smirked, smacking the prince’s behind. “Off you get, you scourge. If I wasn’t here, I’m sure you’d ravish her.” She hissed in Nikolai’s ear.

He squawked in indignation, threw Alina a kiss over his shoulder. Genya pulled the double doors shut, and the two of them raced through the halls, chasing and teasing one another. Soon enough, they reached the royal couple’s chamber doors, and stopped dead. 

Genya pulled on his bow-tie, while Nikolai helped Genya pin her hair up and straighten her cuffs. They did this all without a word between them, and grinned at one another.

“Ready?” Nikolai murmured, reaching for Genya’s hand.

“Are we ever?” She replied, squeezing his hand.

“No.” He added, settling his shoulders. He always felt so young coming back here. Partly why he avoided it. He pushed the double doors open, and let Genya step first into the Lion’s maw. Following her, Nikolai paused in the doorway.

He wanted Alina here with them. But not yet. 

Ravka needed her. Nikolai needed her. So did Genya. But Alina needed to find herself first. 

Nikolai closed his eyes, and stepped from the world he controlled to the world that was out of his control. He would go quietly, not screaming or kicking. 

For he controlled what he could, and the rest was up to the Saints.

End of chapter 2. 

[stromuprisahat]

Siege and Storm- Chapter 17

Yeah. Kolya thinks he'll bore him to abdication... fool.

Vasily isn't even showing off, he's merely reminding everyone who's the Heir.

Divide et impera, anyone?

I highly doubt that's how you run a country. Ruling isn't about doing everything yourself.

a.) You wouldn't have time to go through every single project.

b.) A single person hardly has the qualification to understand everything (unless they have unlimited time to learn and corresponding memory).

Nikolai's either ignorant, or exaggerating to get rid of Vasily. He doesn't fool only him though. Alina fails to see through the lie, and accepts this childishly simple idea of leading a country, while failing to apply even an ounce of it to her own "rule".

So Nikolai's aware of Aleksander's merits?

Because if ministers aren't enough to run Ravka at least on Alexander III/Pyotr's level, someone else must have been doing the work, and the only other option is the Apparat, whose lack of qualification for anything military-related, perhaps even economy-related, I don't have to point out, do I?!

Nikolai's either overestimating the Darkling's influence AND ignoring his work to align with weak, politically unskilled girl, or aware of the real position of Second Army and their general, but gleefully ignoring it the way he doesn't address his beloved First Army's hatred.

Either he's a power-hungry cunt, or intentionally blind fool.

I'm sorry, but half of Vasily's wrongdoings sound like rather reasonable points of view to consider. Unless Alina provides an example of him speaking long about nothing at all, I'm not inclined to take her word on it.

... there’s no easy way to govern a country, but this is more than enough to remain hereditary ruler.

I also have to wonder how well does Nikolai know the brother he haven't seen in almost seven years. (S&S Ch11)

Nikolai talks as if he ran political campaign in well-educated, uncorrupted, democratic country, but absolutism isn't a matter of elections and even that wouldn't grant relevance of competency.

[everythinggrishaverse2047]

That’s My Future Wife

Summary - You and your friend overhear Vasily bad-mouthing you after your formerly-secret relationship with Nikolai is discovered. Nikolai isn’t having any of it.

Notes - I don’t know where this is going. I am watching Season 2 again and Vasily sucks, and I personally think there is a shortage of Nikolai fanfics. I know it’s short, but it felt more effective that way. *Don’t repost without my permission. And as always don’t own any of the characters, including you.* 477 words

👑 ♥️ 👑

It was simple, the word was out. Rumors spread quickly. The relationship that began soon before he and Dominik joined the First Army, the one that grew when he convinced you to leave for the True Sea with him, the one that stemmed from a companionship since childhood, it was the new gossip. It seemed everyone knew, and if they didn’t, you were sure they would soon find out. The King and Queen knew, Vasily knew, the entirety of the court knew, the staff knew.     

You were walking down the hall with your friend Shadame, when you overheard Nikolai saying something behind closed doors. You pulled her in next to you to listen to the conversation at hand. You recognized Vasily’s voice. “You really are the stupidest of them all,” you didn’t have to see Vasily’s face to know he was sneering.       

“This is my life and you only seem to take care when you wish to ruin me,” Nikolai responded, trying to keep his cool.       

“She is Grisha. You can’t trust that she will be loyal to Ravka,” Vasily seethed.      

“She hasn’t attempted to start a civil war, unlike some people. Your pride and stupidity shall ruin all of Ravka.”         

“No. She’s worse. She is a commoner . She is Grisha. She is Grisha scraps –” Vasily spat out before being interrupted by Nikolai, which had you holding your friend back from marching into that room and punching Vasily.     

Nikolai quickly stopped Vasily before he could go any farther, not afraid to hold his anger back. “Watch yourself, Vasily. That’s my future wife you are talking about.”        

You looked at Shadame who looked more giddy for you than anything else reaching to squeeze your hand. You and Nikolai had discussed the idea of marriage, but there was something inside you that swelled when he said that. You swore you were listening as much as you could. She is a woman who is more fit to rule this country than you will ever be. I love her and I do not care what you say to me. I will always choose her.”       

You then heard footsteps and the door swung open to reveal Nikolai standing there, he looked almost shocked upon seeing you standing there. The look in his eyes were saying something like, ‘I wish you hadn’t heard that.’ He immediately stepped forward reaching for your hands. “Lapushka.”       

You went to speak before the pair of your heard someone grunting and then quick footsteps as Vasily went running from the room clutching his cheek looking shocked, your friend standing in the doorway with her hands raised. The funny part was that she was a tailor, and wouldn't have been able to set Vasily on fire if she wanted to.      

The look of fear in his eyes had you burrying your face into Nikolai’s shoulder, trying not to laugh.

[telugxrl13]

VASILY THIS FUCKING DUMBASS

[namedafterflowerstournament]

Botanic Tournament : Main Bracket !

Round 1 Poll II

The Russian name Василий (Vasily) is close to василек (cornflower)

(Cornflowers and maple leaves)

[doyouknowthis-grishaverse]

(It was very tempting here to simply not put an option to love this character)

[julian-jacoss]

Nikolai: For my father! Vasily: you don't have a father, you were raised by moths in a closet.

[sage-thetravler]

Vasily traveling near the true sea for a race:..you look just like my brother.

Nikolai, tailored slightly to look like someone else (Strumhound): wha? That’s so silly- I mean ah wha- *coughs* Imagine That..