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kasagia · 1 year ago

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His mortal saviour

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x otkazat’sya!fem! reader Summary: You saved him. You took him from under the fold and healed him when he was in his most vulnerable state. He doesn't know you; he's hostile and distrustful of you, so he naturally runs away at the first possible opportunity. But somehow, he can't just walk away from you. Word Count: around 6k Anonymous requested this a looong time ago (in January). So sorry honey!!!! Hope you will enjoy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @il0vebeingdelulu @chelseyyouraverageluigi @watersquirtpewpewboomm @summersummoner-pat Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

He woke up feeling numb.

He had never felt so... paralysed in his entire life. It was as if the use of all his limbs had been taken away from him. And he didn't like that at all.

He expected him to be in the centre of the fold, with the volcra circling around him. However, as consciousness returned to him, he became more aware of his surroundings.

The first thing he felt was warmth. The warmth, which wasn't at all in the fold. He shuddered and remembered how the cold had penetrated his body even more the moment the volcra's claws had dug into his face.

Then he felt the softness of the mattress beneath his back instead of the hardness of the sandy, packed soil. Further evidence proving that he was entirely somewhere else was the sound of soft footsteps and humming a few feet away from him.

He opened his eyes hesitantly and hissed, unaccustomed to the light after being unconscious for so long.

He freezes as he feels a hand on his eyes, keeping the sunlight from reaching them. Little. Soft. Alina... a thought comes to him, and he quickly laughs it off. His little sun summoner would probably rather blind him completely with her sun than protect him from more pain.

"Take it easy. You've been badly harmed." A soft female voice breaks the silence and pulls him from his thoughts about the woman who betrayed him and their kind.

He feels a strange rush of fear as he hears a female voice. Aleksander unwillingly recalls the memory of the time when he and his mother were captured by the Drüskelle. He felt like he did now. Helpless.

He was unable to move even a small distance on his own. The only difference was that no one was hanging over him with scalpels and other blades or hurling insults. But he suspected that could change very quickly...

He had to do something. He needed to get out of here somehow, but every slight movement of his muscles was accompanied by a huge wave of searing pain throughout his whole body. And for a brief moment, it occurred to him that maybe destroying the fold wasn't such a bad idea.

"Don't worry. I am not a psychopath, mad, serial killer, or anything. I'm a nurse. I saw you near the fold and took you to my house to heal you. It's a miracle you survived your encounter with the volcra. Usually, no one gets out of the fold. Certainly not on their own." The woman says, slowly removing her hand from his eyes.

He's too dazed by the light, busy taking in his surroundings and seeing her face for the first time, to notice that she's adjusting the bandages on his face and checking his wounds.

But he hisses, feeling the burning pain on his forehead as she rubs some thick, gooey liquid onto him.

"I'm sorry, but I have to. It's an ointment against infection. This should also numb you enough so that you don't feel any pain in your face. How's your back?"

He is too shocked to respond. As he takes a breath, he has a sudden coughing fit. She moves away from him. He hears her quick footsteps as she returns a moment later with a cup of water and a tissue. He spits something black out of his mouth, desperately trying to get some air. She strokes his back gently and leans him more forward, making him spit out all the black goo mixed with his saliva from his throat.

He frowns, staring at the tissue soaked in black liquid.

"Don't worry, it's absolutely normal. Every time they bring a survivor from the fold to the infirmary, something like this happens. The air is different there, and volcra tend to infect their victims. Let's just say it's some kind of poison that comes out of you. That's a good sign. As well as the fact that you woke up. Here." The woman says, taking the tissue from him and throwing it into a nearby trash can. He glances there, seeing that it is half full of black dressings and bandages. He looks back at her as she hands him a glass of water.

"What do you want?" He asks, his voice hoarse from disuse (or screaming in the fold), not taking a sip from the cup you gave him. It could be poisoned or worse.

"I... I don't understand." You say, confused by his hostile attitude.

"What do you want from me?" He repeats it again, and the commanding, demanding tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

"Nothing. I'm just helping." You reply with a shrug, which annoys him even more. He laughs mockingly, making you frown.

"Selflessly? To a stranger? Don't make me look like a naive idiot. Tell me right now who you are, what you want, and where we are, and you won't get hurt."

"With all due respect, I doubt you'd be able to raise your hand right now, let alone hold a gun or sword, or hit me, even if you were a soldier of the First Army." He stares at you in surprise, realising that you have no idea who he is, and maybe you really just helped him.

Could a normal person dare to speak back to the Darkling with such courage and anger in her eyes? He didn't think so. But one name comes to his mind... even though he's too hurt to think about her.

"What?" You ask him as he stares at you for a little too long.

"Nothing." He clears his throat and stares warily at the offered water. "Not many people surprise me." He explains, still not believing in your good intentions. You couldn't be so altruistic as to help a strange man who got spat out by the fold. People weren't kind or helpful to the weak, at least never towards him. That's why he always had to be stronger than others. To never become prey again.

"I see that you don't trust many either. If I pour for myself and you water from one jug and drink it first, will you consider doing the same? You need to rehydrate." You say it calmly, completely unfazed by his distrust.

For some reason, this makes him more surly towards you. Maybe this whole act on your part was just to keep his guard down until someone came for him, for example, Shu, Drüskelle, or even Alina's group of heroes. He had to get away from here. As soon as he regained full control over his aching body.

“Try to deceive me, and I will make sure to wipe out your family lineage to the last living generation.” He growls hoarsely, trying to regain at least some semblance of control in this situation.

"It's good that I'm an orphan then." You say, pouring him and yourself a glass of water and showing him that both are empty.

Another orphan... he thinks as you reach both glasses so he can choose which one he wants.

"Who are you? Where are we?" He asks as he holds a glass in his hand.

You drink your water and set the glass on the nightstand near the bed. Aleksander decides to wait a while before taking a sip himself, to see if the water won't have a strange effect on you and if you haven't poisoned it after all. Although you could have practiced mithradism and been immune to whatever poison you wanted to give him. His head began to hurt more as he considered all the possibilities.

"Y/N Y/L/N. A nurse, as I mentioned earlier. We are in Eastern Ravka, on the border with the fold. More south of Tsemna and closer to the border with Shu Han. And you?"

He hesitates for a moment and doesn't know why, whether it's the headache or the fact that he doesn't want you to catch him in a lie, but he tells you his real name.

"Aleksander." He says, finally deciding to take a sip from his cup. He would always be able to use the cut if there was something wrong with the drink you gave him. You try your best not to smile at that.

"And what are you doing for life, if that's not a secret?" You ask jokingly, but he doesn't seem too eager to lighten his attitude.

He is still tense and looks around carefully, as if waiting for someone to attack him. Your heart hurts at the sight. Something must have happened in his past for him to be on guard all the time. And those scars from the fold... you suspect it wasn't just the volcra that were responsible for them.

"I... create things." He tells half the truth. After all, the fold, the volcra, and his shadows are some kind of... things he created.

"Are you a carpenter? Do you have your own workshop?"

Little Palace. He thinks, but he knows that after what happened in the fold, the tsar probably took this away from him as well.

He shudders to think about how he could have hurt his people. He had to get out of here. And fast. Before more, Grisha got hurt. Because if he knows something, he knows that Alina won't be able to protect them. He tried to walk the path of peace with Lantsov's dynasty, but it never ended well.

All he provided for Grisha—a safe place at the Little Palace, home, food, illusions of freedom thanks to the cessation of Grisha hunting, and much more—was bought with the blood of others. And if he had to be a monster to make sure his people wouldn't suffer like he did and many others have in the past, then so be it.

He would be the worst of them all.

"I have people who create for me and follow my orders and requests." He replies brusquely when you look at him carefully. You sigh, seeing that you won't be able to get through to him until he's sure you really don't have any bad intentions towards him.

"Okay… do you have any family I should write to? Or someone else?" You ask instead, apparently hitting another sore spot as his injured hand grips the cup so hard that the bandages you wrapped around it dig into his skin.

"No... there is no need for that." He says it coldly.

An image of his mother quickly comes to mind, as does the image of Alina, at which he shakes his head. The only two women with whom he allowed himself to be vulnerable and who could hurt him actually did. Without blinking an eye or a moment of hesitation. You probably were the same, and despite your quite tender care, he still wasn't sure if it was true or just an action.

Although if you were meant to capture him, you would at least tie him up so he couldn't summon his shadows. Maybe you really had no idea about his identity...

"I shall leave you to rest then. I have to go to my work." You say as you start to put on your coat.

"You will leave me alone?" He ask. He can't believe that you would really leave him—a strange man you didn't know at all—in your house all alone.

"Do you need a company?" You ask mockingly, using the exact same cold tone of voice he used before. Aleksander decides he liked you much more when you were soft towards him.

"Aren't you afraid I'll rob you and run away?"

"There are only herbs, medicines, and a few books here. I have nothing so valuable that I couldn't get it on the market if you decided to take it. You can look around if you want. Although I wouldn't advise you to get up, your wounds are still fresh and barely sealed, so they don't bleed."

"Are you insane?" He can't help but ask, as you really are going out. His words and utter shock make you giggle, which doesn't make his opinion of you any better.

"All the best people are. Try not to die. It would be a waste of medicines and bandages." You say this and smile amusedly as you close the door behind you.

Aleksander blinks, surprised, as he lays in your bed. He tries to understand what has happened here, but he still has a headache and needs to get out of here.

He didn't trust you at all.

So before anyone could come and get him from you, he stood up. His legs are shaky at the beginning, but as he walks around your (tiny) cottage, he regains the ability to walk… maybe not as well as he did, but enough to move.

He looks around, just as you suggested, but he didn't find any proff that would confirm his suspicion about your bad intentions towards him.. But it doesn't stop him from taking some pills and herbs before he leaves your house. He makes sure to take only a little—enough to get to the village or somewhere where he could find his people.

He decided that you were too kind to be robbed.

The healer who was trying to heal his wounds was surprised at how good their condition was. Virtually cured. However, black scars remained on him, marring his face. Just like the piece of amplifier in his hand.

But Aleksander didn't care at all. His scars were a good reminder that anyone can be made a fool of. And he didn't want to be fooled by the woman's beautiful eyes once again—even ones as beautiful as yours.

David offered to take it out for him, but he wasn't ready for it yet. The amplifier was his only connection to Alina, and he needed every means to locate her. At least, that's how he explained to himself his reluctance to remove the festering amplifier from his hand.

He did the same with you. He also told himself that the creation of a secret shelter for his Grishas in an abandoned manor in the forest a few miles from your little cabin was pure coincidence. Just like the way he had a habit of wandering around your neighbourhood and watching you from afar when he needed to think alone about his further plans.

The problem was that he couldn't plan anything. Nothing significant. Of course, he still freed his Grisha and kept them safe, but when it came to Ravka's fate... he was in a bind. He didn't know what to do.

And so one day, when he went for a walk away from Ivan, Fruzsi, and the rest who were bothering him, he 'accidentally' came across you.

It's happened quite often. At first, he sent Ivan to look at you; sometimes he followed you around himself, waiting in suspense to find out that you weren't an innocent nurse after all. That it was not by accident that you took him from under the fold and cured him. But he found nothing. You have no conspiracy against him, no cult that was killing Grisha, or even any connection to Alina's group. Nothing.

He didn't know what to think about that either. He would rather discover that you weren't so selfless and sensitive to others' harm. This way, you would save him some sleepless nights when he thought about you and the way you took care of him. No one has done this for a long time... or ever. To be honest, Aleksander didn't remember the last time that someone just... he looked after him out of pure kindness and concern FOR HIM.

Neither his mother nor Alina. One was too cold to even think about caring for the other, and the second was too afraid of him to even consider him as something more than just a monster craving power and the throne. He didn't think he'd had anyone since Luda who would simply take care of him out of the goodness of their hearts.

That's why he started to be fascinated and curious about you. A mere mortal. Otkazat’sya. You tended to avoid people despite your willingness to help (at which he was very surprised). In the village where you worked in the infirmary, everyone treated you warmly and kindly, just as you treated them. Even your worst patients. To which Aleksander would lose his tamper more than once.

Over time, he realised that what drew him to you was your warmth. He was starting to get jealous of the attention you gave others, even if you then went back to your cabin alone. He didn't know what caused this need to be near you. Maybe it was because he was tired of being alone in his icy darkness. Alina once was his sunlight. For a brief moment, he felt... normal. In peace. After everything went to hell. And then, he felt like this for a while under your tender touch.

He should have learned from his mistakes and forgotten about you, but... something wouldn't let him.

He was beginning to suspect that maybe he was just getting too old for all this.

"All alone in the forest? Do you know what monsters might be lurking here?" He asks, encountering you on one of his excursions to help him think. It was a pure impulse. He snuck up on you on the spur of the moment (or maybe because Alina tried to snatch the amplifier out of his hand a few hours ago and he needed someone to talk to as... just Aleksander. Not the Darkling.)

"For example?" You ask, turning to him and stopping picking herbs. You look pretty. Strands of hair fall into your eyes, and he almost reaches out to brush them off himself, but you do it before he can raise his hand.

He takes a look at you. Your coat is too thin for his taste. The snow had barely melted, and what you were wearing certainly didn't adequately protect you from the cold wind that was still blowing. He had to ask David to make you something similar to a kefta when he would be back.

"The Darkling." He says, feeling your burning, careful gaze on his face. You don't look at him with disgust or fear. No. He sees in your eyes a professional assessment of his health and a slight hint of curiosity... he wonders if maybe he's not the only one here who feels drawn to the other.

"I doubt he has enough free time to wander around the forest." He smiles at your words, amused that you have no idea that you are now talking with him.

He had never been happier that the news in these parts of Ravka... usually didn't reach here. People here identified more with Shu since they started mixing with each other a long time ago. Of course not Grisha. They could only count on themselves. Mostly...

"Oh, you'd be surprised what can happen, little saviour."

"Saviour?" You ask, raising your eyebrows at him. He sees the spark of amusement shining in your eyes, and he just can't help himself. He steps closer to you and reaches for the basket of herbs. He follows you as you select herbs and plants that you apparently find useful. Aleksander feels... normal and ordinary. And for a moment, he begins to understand why Alina would choose a simple life with her tracker rather than a privileged one as a Sun Summoner.

"I believe I owe a part of my life to you."

"Almost no one gets out of the fold. Thank the saints for your life, not me." You shrug off his feeble attempt at thanking you and turn to him. You study his face carefully, assessing the appearance of his scars. He feels himself starting to blush under your gaze.

"I don't believe in saints." He finally says, glad that he managed to drag your gaze away from his face as you look into his eyes this time, frowning in surprise.

"Why?"

"They were ordinary people. Most of them had no idea what they were doing. People hailed them as saints mainly because of rumours—stories whose confirmation could only be sought from the insane."

"So not only a carpenter, but also an expert in saints. You are a true mystery, Aleksander." You laugh at him and he smiles, thinking that you don't even know what an enigma he is.

"I'm just saying that most of them didn't do anything significant. Not for Grisha. And they were killed because they tried to show people that they shouldn't hunt us and that we are useful in some way. If anything, they tightened the chains of slavery on us."

"So you are a Grisha." He blushes slightly, embarrassed at how easily he let his secret be revealed. Yes. He was definitely too old for all this. "What kind of are you? Inferni? Durast?"

"Heartrender." He answers quickly and without thinking. "But it doesn't matter. Forgive me. I should go." He says, almost panicking as he turns away from you and rushes in the opposite direction. He wants to get away from you as quickly as possible before he unknowingly reveals his true identity to you.

"Wait a second. Aleksander!" However, you don't give up and chase after him, grabbing his hand—exactly the one that is rotting from the remains of the amplifier left in it. Aleksander hisses, wincing in pain. He pulls his hand out of your grip and tries to look anywhere but at you. "Your hand." You whisper hurriedly as you walk towards him. He takes a step back, trying as always to keep some distance from you when you made him feel... vulnerable.

"Not your concern." He growls at you, hoping you'll drop the idea of examining his wound. Because how was he supposed to explain to you the stag bone stuck in his hand?

"Volcra poison can infect your blood. You should get it cured by your healers. And do it as quickly as possible; otherwise, it will lead you to a slow death; you will lose your senses; you will start hearing whispers, calls from the fold, and volcra."

"I'll be fine."

"Don't make me laugh; even the Darkling wouldn't be able to deal with that all alone. The Volcra may be the product of his ancestors, but this... this is a wild kind of little science. Unpredictable. I have seen hundreds who may have managed to get out of the crease but have gone mad because of their venom. These are not ordinary shadows. They are living creatures that attack just like any other animal. So please, if you don't trust me with this, go and show it to some talented healer, because you can't leave it like that."

"How do you know so much about this?" He asks curiously, putting his injured hand into the pocket of his kefta.

"Anyone who lives near the fold and is involved in healing knows this." You answer evasively, trying to avoid his further questions. This time you turn your back to him, pretending that you are interested in some plant.

"No, they not." He continues insistently, wanting at all costs to know the real reason you were here, why you had so much knowledge about the fold. He grabs your arm and turns you around so he can look at your face, as he is waiting for your answer.

"My sister was a healer. A Grisha." You blurt out in one breath and look away from him as painful memories come flooding back to you. Aleksander feels a pang in his heart when he sees the obvious pain in your eyes. A pain he himself had carried with him for centuries.

"Was?" He notes, swallowing.

"She is dead."

"The fold?" You nod at his question. He feels his throat dry, and he lets go of your arm as his hands tremble slightly. And Aleksander thinks that of all the lives that the fold has taken, your sister's life will be the one that will remain permanently in his memory. Especially that look filled with pain, bitterness, and grieving. "Then why did you stay here?"

"I moved here... to help to this who could somehow managed to get out of it." You reply as you calm down. Your tone of voice and posture may confuse Aleksander at first glance, but your eyes, your eyes tell him everything that you try to hide.

"It's... very nobel."

"Just please, don't leave it like that. You will certainly die if you will."

"You care about the stranger?" He asks in surprise, raising an eyebrow at you. You reach for your basket and take it from him before giving him your answer and looking him in the eyes again.

"I've already told you. It would be a waste of medicines and bandages if you die." You reply mischievously with a smile, and he chuckles. He can't help but reach up to your cheek and caress your cheek with his thumb as he gets lost in your eyes. No one had ever cared for him, so... simply. Without any major reasons. It was... extraordinary. You were extraordinary.

"It's... more complcated... but I shall listen to you." He assures you, noticing the way you nuzzle your cheek into his hand, not pulling away from him at all, not flinching at his sudden touch. His gaze involuntarily flits from your eyes to your mouth for a brief moment, and he imagines what it would be like to kiss you—to feel the softness of your lips against his. And Aleksander really wants to do it.

"I hope so... and that you won't get in trouble because of that grumpy old general of yours for being here." Alexander chuckles at your joke, amused by the absurdity of the situation. If you only knew...would you still let him stand so close to you? His mood suddenly worsens as he thinks about it. What would you do if you found out he was the Darkling? That he created the fold?

"Believe me, little savior, he can't do anything to me for coming to you." He replies and lowers his hand, breaking any contact with your soft, silky skin. Oh, how he wanted to know more of you—to touch more than your hands, cheeks, hair, or neck. But he couldn't. Not after so much disappointment, not after Alina, not after Luda. He should have known better.

So he freezes, completely shocked, when you grab his wrist and cup his cheek in your hand. Your basket of herbs is abandoned on the forest path as you brush your nose against his. Alexander holds his breath, waiting to see what you will do.

"May I?" You ask, whispering, trembling as you're unsure of his reaction to what you want to do.

All Aleksander can do is cross the last inches between you and capture your lips in a kiss. You sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Aleksander wraps his arms around you tightly and takes two steps back, pressing you against the tree. You moan into his mouth as his beard tickles you into the kiss, which he uses to his advantage and slides his tongue into your mouth.

Aleksander allows himself to lose himself in the feeling of you, your taste, your smell, and the way your body feels under his wandering hands. And if he had previously suspected that he might be obsessed with you, now he has proved to himself how deep you have gotten under his skin. He was a fool for allowing you to have such power over him. But how sweet it was to be a fool, with your lips and hands pressed against him.

And the next day, when he comes to visit you, his hand is completely healed, without any amplifier. And his mind is completely free of Alina Starkov.

"That's nice." You whisper in the crook of his neck as you lie cuddled in the meadow under the full moon.

“Mhm…” Aleksander mumbles, burying his nose in your hair. He hugs you tighter, as if afraid that you might escape from his arms at any moment. "Although I'm beginning to wonder if you've brought me here to perform some witchy tricks. Maybe some sacrifice?"

"Your ass is too beautiful to sacrifice it." You reply teasingly, biting his neck. He gasps and digs his fingers harder into your hips. He leans down, moving your head away from his neck by pulling your hair so he can steal a kiss from your lips.

"Is it?" He whispers against your lips as he pulls away to let you catch your breath.

"Apparently." You reply, reaching up to caress the scars on his face with your fingertip. Aleksander closes his eyes and sighs, surrendering to your gentle touch. "I like your face too. The way you frown when you're irritated by something. The way you twist your ridiculously tempting lips into a smirk when you're right, even though it irritates me sometimes. The way your eyes sparkle when you talk about how you help Grisha. The way you look at me, as if I were your whole world. The way you wrap your hands around me or take my hand in yours to make sure I'm close to you, that I'm under your protection, and that I'm not going anywhere. The way you are grumpy when you are sleepy and how you don't want to admit that you are tired. I... I think I fell in love with you, Aleksander."

Aleksander smiles, caressing your cheek tenderly. He leans down and captures your lips in a tender kiss, trying to shake away the guilt that has been haunting him for several months now.

Ever since your relationship... became more serious, Aleksander has been trying to find the perfect way to tell you about his true identity. But every time he thought the moment was good, he lost his courage. He didn't even want to think about what your reaction might be to him being the Darkling who created the fold. He was absolutely convinced that you would hate him as soon as the truth came to light and that you would blame him for your sister's death. And honestly? Aleksander would not even try to defend himself. He knew damn well that he didn't deserve your affection and love. However, he couldn't help but come back to you, basking in the feeling that he had been denied for a very long time.

You end the kiss and bury your face in the crook of his neck. Aleksander shivers as he feels you exhale warm air onto his cold skin. He tightens his grip on you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"I love you too, milaya." He mumbles, running a hand through your hair. He plays with the strands of your hair, twirling them around his finger.

He feels unexpectedly pleasant around you. Homely. Ordinary. These were feelings that Aleksander had rarely, if ever, experienced over the course of hundreds of years. He found himself longing for moments where he could slip away to your little cottage and sink into the warmth of your arms, listen to your gentle heartbeat, and bask in your scent. This was a huge hindrance to his plans to get another amplifier and guarantee a better future for his Grisha.

"They say they've seen a Darkling in these parts. That he's gathering an army to start a civil war." Aleksander frowns, feeling his heart speed up slightly in panic.

"That's what they say?"

"Yhm... What do you think about it? Will you join him? Or will you try to escape and join Sankta Alina?" He unconsciously tightens his grip on you as you ask him this question and mention Alina. He buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your scent and trying to calm himself down before answering your question.

"I will stay. I think he wants a better future for us than Alina plans to guarantee."

"Maybe for Grisha. But still, I don't like wars."

"Me too, lapushka. But sometimes there is no other solution to change something than to start a war and take the power." He admits with a sigh and traces patterns on your arm, calming down as he feels the softness of your skin under the pads of his hard fingers.

Aleksander suddenly becomes more alert, subconsciously sensing the approaching threat. He doesn't want to outgrow you, thinking that maybe it's his paranoia kicking in, so he sits down, still holding you in his arms, as he looks around at his surroundings. He holds his breath as he sees movement in the bushes across from you.

Before he can do anything, a group of Shu surrounds you. One of them has a shotgun aimed at you. Aleksander acts instinctively. He wraps one arm around you, summoning his shadows. Before anyone can hurt you, he uses a cut and sends his shadows to remove the threat. The metallic smell of blood fills the clearing. Aleksander breathes quickly, his veins pumping with adrenaline as he looks around carefully. He feels blood seeping from where the bullet hit him, piercing his plain coat. He hisses, turning his attention to you. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees no signs of hurt on you, but freezes in fear as soon as he sees your terrified look.

"Y/N... I can explain."

"You are hurt. Let's go back to my cottage, I'll stitch you up." You interrupt him, examining his wound.

You take his hand and lead him through the forest towards your house. Aleksander stares at the back of your head in shock, tightening his grip on your hand, wanting to make sure you don't suddenly run away from him and that you don't decide to abandon him in the middle of the forest to save yourself from him.

You open the door and wordlessly point to the bed. He takes your hint and sits down, taking off his coat and shirt. Involuntarily, he remembers the first time he came here and woke up in your bed. He swallows hard, hoping this won't be the last time you treat his wounds. Or when you're close to him.

"This may sting." You tell him, sitting down next to him. You squirt a cotton ball with antiseptic into his wound. He hissed, biting his lip, completely unprepared for this as he was still lost in his thoughts.

"Y/N… I… I wanted to tell you. I swear. I just… I didn't want to ruin… you know what I mean, right?" He asks, staring intently at you. You make no move to look him in the eyes, pretending to devote all your attention to his wound. Aleksander cups both of your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look at him as he gives you a pleading look. "Please. Say something. Anything."

"I… I didn't expect this. Because why would the Darkling be hurt by something he created and why would he return to my cottage?"

"Because you fascinated me. Deeply. You... you were the first person to see me as something other than a Darkling. Alexander. The real me, not the version of myself I had to create for my Grishas. I... besides, I didn't hide my thought from you. You... you were one of the truly few people I let under my mask who could see my heart. And I swear I was going to tell you, I... I was just afraid that I would lose you the moment you found out who I really was. What can I do."

"Oh, Aleksander. You stupid man. Am I running away screaming? Am I calling you a monster? Am I treating you differently?" You ask, placing your hand on his bearded cheek and using your thumb to stroke it tenderly, making sure you give his scars the tender care they deserve.

"No." He responds, carefully analyzing and comparing your behavior before today's fatal accident.

"Because I don't see you any other way. Yes, at first I was shocked and a little scared, but that was because I didn't expect it at all. You… volcra it's not your fault. Even if you created it. You didn't know what would happen." Aleksander feels a lump in his throat.

How can he tell you that he planned to make it bigger? That before he met you he would have done it without blinking an eye, but now he has such serious doubts that he is actually considering deviating from his original plan for you?

"I'm not as good a person as you think."

"Then show me." You answer casually, as if it were that simple. You finish patching up his wound and press a kiss on it.

Aleksander smiles at you tenderly and pulls you in for a passionate kiss. His heart is racing as he realises that he hasn't actually lost you, that you're still here and want to be here, judging by the way you moan into his mouth.

He holds you tightly and lays down on your bed with you straddling him as you place small kisses along his neck and across the width of his muscled chest. He smiles, realising how far he's come with you. He never would have guessed when he woke up in this bed that he would let you get this close to him. But with each little kiss you gave, the gentle, tender way your hands moved over his body, and the way you caressed each of his wounds and scars, Aleksander thanked the saints for putting you in his path. And unknowingly to him, you truly were his little saviour, saving him from a much worse fate than he could ever imagine.

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ellewritesalright · 1 month ago

Text

Nine Long Years - Part 8

Nikolai Lantsov x Rietveld!reader, Kaz Brekker x sister!Rietveld!reader (platonic)

Part 7 --- Masterlist

Synopsis: After watching your brothers die, you found yourself working on the Volkvolny. In the many years since then, you somehow became the queen of Ravka while your brother somehow survived firepox and life in the Barrel, rising through its ranks. In disguise during a diplomatic trip with your husband Nikolai, you meet Kaz Brekker for what you think is the first time, only to find out that he is your long-thought-dead little brother.

Author's Note: Hi Everyone!! So excited to share this part with you all!! It took forever to write this, but there are a couple of scenes that I had written way back when I first started this series knowing that this is where it would go, and those scenes are very dear to me. Hope you all enjoy! Can't believe we're almost at our ninth year...

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and fluff, mentions of sickness, injury, panic attacks, firepox. If I'm missing something pls lmk

Word Count: 7,950

SEVENTH AND EIGHTH YEARS

Everything happened so quickly.

You barely had a week with Nikolai in the Spinning Wheel when the Darkling attacked again. You'd been making up for lost time, working together to end the war in the daytime and holding him tight and whispering soft things to each other at night. It was enough for you to be back on the same page as Nikolai. But the chapter was short.

The ambush took him from you, transforming him into a creature akin to a volcra. There was a horrible terror in your veins as you watched him reform in front of you, but worse than that was the pit in your stomach at the confused and pained expression he held on his fanged face even as he changed. Seeing him claw at himself in shame as he tried to use his leathery wings to fly away broke your heart.

A few weeks had passed since then. You had followed Alina where she led, working for her cause and pushing to free Ravka. You got back into the habit of praying you acquired underground, asking the saints and Ghezen and any other being who may listen to keep your love safe.

By the time you were fighting in the fold, surrounded by darkness, the Darkling's army, volcra, and every other enemy imaginable, you were harrowed and angry. Grisha keftas are made to be bulletproof, but you weren't stupid enough to aim at the Darkling's soldiers' keftas. Your bullets pierced through the exposed skin of their necks and heads each time you fired.

Your accuracy drew attention, though, and a heartrender turned his eyes on you. You felt your chest tighten, your gun dropping out of your slack wrist as he slowly killed you. And just as you fell to your knees in the sand of the fold, your body loosened. You glanced up to see a volcra had carried this corporalki up into the sky, tearing one of his arms off. Blood splattered on you as he was torn, and you ducked behind a wrecked skiff to take cover from the volcra.

You held your gun firm as you peered over the skiff at the volcra above. It was circling you, like it was waiting to pluck you up into the sky too. You raised your gun, ready to fire at it, when you saw it swooping towards you. You ducked again and fired, blindly hoping that you had stopped it.

You heard a scream behind you and whipped your head around to see a Darkling Tidemaker behind you being forced down so harshly into the sand by the volcra that her head was now submerged. This creature's wings flapped as it turned slightly, peering at you with familiar eyes. It gave a meek screech, sounding nearer to a squawk than the high-pitched roars of other volcra you had encountered. It ducked its head slightly, and you saw little scratches on its face, as if from its own talons.

You pictured the attack on the spinning wheel, the last images of Nikolai before he was transformed into a self-loathing creature.

"Nikolai?" You breathed.

The creature finished burying the tidemaker and flapped its wings, flying away across the dark fold. You blinked and leaned against the wrecked skiff for a moment.

Then you ran, trying to go after Nikolai. You wanted to scream for him, to try to gain his attention and draw him back, but you couldn't bring that sort of attention to yourself, not when there were real, dangerous volcra as well as the Darkling's Grisha and nichevo’ya all around.

Seconds morphed into minutes, minutes into hours. As far as you could tell, you were running and fighting for forever. Even the quick things seemed to slow down, the bullets and elements, the monsters and shadows; everything seemed small and slow as you moved through the fray, slashing or dodging every foe you faced.

You kept an eye on the sky, aching for your impossibly aggravating prince--the soon-to-be king whom you loved. As you spotted him again, tangled with a real volcra in the air, you held your breath and ducked behind the hull of a skiff-wreck. You raised your gun, trying to get a read on whether you could shoot without hurting Nikolai, but no sooner had you held your arm out were your eyes suddenly caught on a Soldat Sol across the sand as light burst from her body. Then another otkasot'ya sun soldier behind her lit up the same way. In a moment, fifty beams of light reached the top of the fold. The airborne volcra all began to screech, the nichevo'ya began to dissipate, and the fighting ceased as all Grisha--on both sides–cast their eyes to the sky to see sunlight poking out from up above.

You searched the air for Nikolai. Your mind started reeling for a second as you could not find him. Bile rose in your throat, and the doubting began. Would you find him a corpse? Would the Soldats’ sun beams turn him to ash?

But then you heard a scream, its timbre somewhere between an animal screech and a warm chesty reverberation you liked to rest your head on, and you turned around, seeing the creature's wings shrink away and a tattered king begin falling from the sky.

“Nik!” You shouted, running towards him.

When he was ten meters from the ground he stopped screaming. Something invisible had caught him, slowing his descent. Zoya stood away to the right, her arms raised.

His back landed on the ground and you kept running towards him. The sand was rugged under your knees as you landed beside him, bracing your arms around him. It didn't matter that his back was still against the ground, or that he let out a soft groan, he wrapped himself around you too.

You raised your head, looking down at him and inspecting his features. They looked human, but more than that, they looked like your Nikolai. His blond hair and hazel eyes that looked at you like you were the center of the universe, both so familiar that you felt your chest expand with a relief you hadn't known since last you held him like this. There was soot and grime on his face and a small cut on his cheek, but you could deal with that later. You sighed and hugged him again, practically lying on top of him as the Darkling's forces surrendered to the Second Army. Nikolai groaned softly, taking in a shaky gasp from the force of your hug. You eased back a bit, but your arms were still holding firmly to him.

"You're an expert now," he breathed into your hair.

"What?" You panted, leaning back slightly to look at his dirty face.

"At saving me."

He flashed a smile, informing you that he thought his joke was funny as can be. That reason alone, that he hadn't lost his sense of humour, brought you to tears. He really was your Nikolai, no matter what challenges you faced, or monsters you fought.

Seeing you cry, he sat up, wiping at your cheeks. He held your nape and gently knocked his forehead against yours. "It's alright, my dear. I'm alright now."

"I know, I just…" You sniffled.

"You just what, love?"

"I was just so afraid I would lose you."

"My darling, you'll never lose me. I promise."

"I felt so helpless and scared. I can't lose you like I lost–" your words ran short of saying your brothers’ names, but Nikolai understood regardless. He held you tighter.

"I know," he said as he pressed his lips to your forehead. "I know."

You sighed, putting your face in his collar. "You're the one that just fell out of the sky after being a sadistic man's shadow monster and yet you're comforting me."

"It's my job, you realize; just part of what a good fiance does."

In all the chaos and fuss, you nearly forgot the chain around your neck. You pulled it out from under your clothes and admired the two rings as they dangled. They couldn't be more different. One was a standard circle of gold, simple as could be, the other carried a sapphire worth more than anything you'd ever owned let alone worn as a constant on your body. Nikolai unclasped the chain and let the rings drop into his palm.

"I would get on my knees again, but I think I need a minute before I can get up. A lot of me is a little sore." He touched your cheek, brushing his thumb along the apex. "My love, will you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me?"

You chuckled softly. "I've already said yes, Nikolai."

"I know. But I want to hear it again. Picturing you in a white gown and veil was the only thing getting me through while I was a shadow monster."

You smoothed his ruffled hair back, kissing him briefly but sweetly. "Yes. I will marry you, Nikolai Lantsov."

"Thank the saints for you," he murmured before drawing you into a long, tender kiss. His forehead connected with yours once you finally broke apart again. "You'll be a wonderful queen."

"Nikolai…" You started, your eyes darting away as you felt your cheeks warm.

He cupped your face in his hands. "You will."

"You have too much confidence in me."

"I beg to differ."

You looked in his hazel eyes for a moment. "Are you good enough to stand?"

"Only with the assistance of my beautiful fiancé."

"Very well," you smiled at him.

You helped Nikolai to his feet, letting him lean some of his weight on you. The sand was uneven beneath your boots as you walked with him against your side. First and Second Army soldiers alike rejoiced as they looked at the clear sky, the division between East and West Ravka finally broken.

"It's a brand new world," you remarked.

"A world where the sea isn't on the other side of a monster-filled death trap," Nikolai grinned.

"True enough," you grinned back. "Though I think royal duties will keep us in Ravka."

"You'd be surprised just how often a royal gets to travel, moya tsaritsa."

You noticed how he squeezed closer to your side, and you smiled even brighter.

"I love you dearly, do you know that?" Nikolai asked, his eyes playful yet true.

"I think you've mentioned it once or twice."

"Then I shall mention it again; I love you dearly, my darling."

……….

A couple of days after the Fold was torn and the Darkling burned, you were still in the camp on the outskirts of the sand waste. You walked through the camp, offering assistance or whatever kindness you had to those who remained. You stopped at the stables, catching a familiar face. Mal was hitching horses to the closed carriage Nikolai procured for him and Alina to take away for their new life free of sainthood and sun summoning.

"Leaving so soon?" You asked loudly and suddenly, startling Mal.

He threw you a look that softened into a light chuckle. "I'm thieving away, just like you."

You made an exaggerated gasp. "Is that any way to speak to your future queen?"

"No," he smiled, "but it's a way to speak to an annoying friend."

You tsked and playfully smacked his arm.

"I'll miss you, Rietveld."

"I'll miss you too, Oretsev. Take care of Alina, but also take care of yourself, Mal," You said softly. "That's an order from your queen."

"You're not queen yet."

"Even so… I hope the countryside will treat you well. Nikolai and I will visit once you're all settled, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that."

You hugged him, patting him on the back. There was something brotherly about Mal, something that always just made you want the best for him. Maybe it was the tinge of Jordie in his persistent optimism. Or maybe you loved him for the way that he had inadvertently ensured you obtained all you wanted.

"And…" You rubbed the back of your neck as you stepped back from him again. There were the beginnings of tears in your eyes. "...Thank you for convincing me to stay. I can't begin to tell you how much I owe you."

"You can thank me by naming your firstborn after me," Mal joked, despite the way his eyes glazed over as well.

You smacked his arm again and then wiped at your eyes and nose. "Oh, shut up. I take back everything sentimental I ever said to you."

"No, you don't," he laughed.

"No, I don't."

……….

Weeks passed by in a blur. Alina and Mal were officially gone. You were back in Os Alta with Nikolai, but this time staying at the Grand Palace. There was quite a bit of damage done to both palaces, much to rebuild and repair, but you were glad for the work. You helped Nikolai with all of the repair plans, wanting to make the palace feel less stark and impersonal, and instead make it feel inviting and warm. If this was to be your home now, you wanted it to be homey.

There was also much to do in the way of learning how a palace like this was managed. You spent lots of time studying histories and politics to prepare for life as a queen, yes, but you also met with the head housekeeper, Ms Garevsky, for an hour each evening. She taught you what happens in each room of the palace, how the staff operate, the passageways of the palace, and anything else you'd need to know to be successful in matters of house and home.

Nikolai had his coronation last week. It was a large affair, apparently not as large as the coronation of the past few kings, but still rather large. There were parades in the streets and parties with diplomats and the like. Throughout it all, Nikolai balanced diplomacy, discussed his plans as king, and gushed about his engagement with you. He championed you to everyone who would listen, behaving every bit the doting fiancé he was.

The maids had gotten used to seeing Nikolai slip into your room at night or vice versa. Your rooms were a whole wing apart, yet you never slept alone. After all you'd been through, there was no reason to sleep alone ever again.

If he came into your room and saw you studying royal histories or reading construction reports, he would wrap his arms around you and ask you to read to him. It reminded you of how you two fell in love, and certainly you felt yourself falling in love again and again each day with him.

Tonight you had slipped into his room. A short scan of the space informed you he was tucked away in the bathroom. His head was tilted back against the porcelain of the bathtub, his arms resting on the sides. But when he opened his eyes and saw you in the doorway his hands dipped under the water, cutting off the black scars the Darkling left on him.

"Hey, you," he smiled. His voice was tired.

"Hey, you," you said, stepping into his bathroom.

"You're early tonight," he remarked. "I usually can't expect you until it's only stars and moon in the sky."

"Well, Ms Garevsky didn't need me for long this evening, she just wanted my thoughts on a few things for the upcoming state dinner, and I finished my readings and letters this afternoon, so here I am."

You knelt beside the tub, face to face with Nikolai. His face was warm as you put a palm to his rosy cheek.

"What's on your mind, my love?" You asked.

"That I am the most fortunate man to live because of you."

"Nikolai," you said with a soft sigh as your thumb traced his cheek. "You look tired. What is it?"

He shook his head, offering a soft smile that you could see right through. "Darling, there's nothing."

"Please, Nik… just tell me."

His eyes dropped from yours, fixating instead on a drop of water on the edge of the tub.

"I figured we were done with any secrets," you murmured. His eyes snapped back up to yours.

"It's not a–" he cut off what sounded like it would be a paltry defense. "You're right. I haven't been entirely honest." He shifted in the tub, making the water slosh slightly. "My darling… I promise I am fine, but I confess that I've been having some pain lately."

Your eyes widened slightly and you brushed back his hair. "Pain? What sort of pain?"

"My scars," he said quietly. The shame in his eyes was evident.

You didn't have to ask him to know he meant the scars on his hands. The remnants of his time as a shadow monster.

"How do they hurt?" You asked softly.

"Sometimes they get so itchy that they're practically burning. Other times, they make it so my hands feel stiff; I'll be writing a letter when my fingers suddenly seize up and I have to stretch them out before I can pick up my pen again."

"Have you spoken to anyone about it?" You asked softly.

He shook his head.

"We can tell Genya tomorrow. Surely she and David can create something to soothe your aches."

"She already tailored them as much as she could. But it's merzost. It won't go away."

"Maybe not, but they can still help you in some way, I bet." You brushed his hair back. "Give me your hands?"

Nikolai sighed and lifted his hands out of the water. You took them in yours, your fingers gently entwining with his, and you brought them up to your lips. You kissed every dark scar, treating them gently and carefully. Your thumbs smoothed over the backs of his hands, and you felt water dripping down into your sleeves.

The wet sleeves irritated you, and you opted to unbutton your shirt. You slipped it off, and the thin straps of your shift exposed the scar on your shoulder. It was veiny and pitch black, just as Nikolai's hands were. You felt his eyes on your skin, and you lightly hummed.

"At least we match," you murmured, brushing his hair back again.

He let out a soft huff of amusement and lifted his hand from the edge of the bath. He gently clasped your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth and kissing the inside of your wrist.

"That we do."

……….

The wedding preparations were taking months.

Nikolai was frustrated enough by it that he had on more than one occasion huffed into your collar, “We could always elope but still have the big wedding later.”

Each time you had consoled him with a kiss and some whispered reassurances. You reminded him nothing would change once you were married, and he reminded you that you would be queen once you wed, something he was eager for. You'd then chuckle and amend yourself.

“Nothing will change between us once we are married,” you'd say.

“Wrong. You'll be my wife. I'll be your husband.”

“And will you treat me any differently?”

He would then pout. “No…”

The preparations were endless, the lists of things to do totalling to a dizzying amount. Just when you felt you were making headway with the plans, some unexpected emergency would pop up. Something concerning the affairs of the nation would pull your attention away, or construction of the palace would hit a bump, or Nikolai would be called away to Kerch on a secret diplomatic mission.

You sat calmly as you listened to a set of Nikolai's counselors. With your fiancé and two-thirds of the triumvirate gone, it was just you and David left to attend to the Ravkan court. After hours in that room, you and David sought refuge in the Little Palace. He shared some of his new designs for various devices over a refreshing lunch, and the two of you discussed at length the remaining renovations left at the Grand Palace.

Once lunch finished, you went through the passage to the royal gardens, heading for your daily lesson with Ms Garevsky, the head housekeeper. Today she continued her coverage of the proper ways to host guests. She had a habit of talking too quickly and making you ask for her to repeat herself a dozen times over, so by the middle of the lessons you were usually exhausted by it to the point where you let her speak and had to hastily scrawl in your notebook to keep up. You were lucky she ended the lesson where she did, as your hand was beginning to cramp with your note-taking.

Then it was dinner time, and you were tempted to return to the Little Palace and dine with friendly faces, but you chose instead to take a tray in your rooms. As you finished eating, a maid arrived, handing you a letter. There was a gold eagle seal, and your heart clenched, knowing instantly who'd written you. You thanked the maid with a smile, and watched as she left, your fingers itching to rip the letter open. The envelope was abandoned as soon as you were alone again. You felt the pages in your hands, eyes scouring over Nikolai's perfect handwriting. You held a hand to your mouth as you read.

My dearest love,

I am seldom one for dramatics, as you well know, but I can assuredly say I miss you so dearly I feel every day without you may draw me to madness.

It is with a heavy heart then, that I must tell you I will be returning later than I expected. Things are more complicated here than we foresaw, and we need a bit more time to fix the creases in this particular fold.

You'll never believe the types of people I'm working with here: criminals of every kind, I tell you. Some are rather charming, others less so. These people remind me of times that feel so long ago they're almost a dream, times where we sailed under a maroon mast, where you saved me more times than I could count.

As I write this, I am transported back to our extended trip in West Ravka, that time Druskelle split us from Tolya and Tamar. Did I ever tell you that’s when I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you? It was one of the mornings, the ones where I woke up with you in my arms, only on that morning you were missing from them. I'd almost panicked, but then I heard this soft humming from the bathroom, and the gentle splash of water. You came out of the bathroom, fresh-faced and dressed, and I pretended I was still asleep as I heard you approach the bed. You’d tsked and muttered to yourself, begrudging how I slept so well, before I felt you gently push a strand of hair off my forehead. It took everything in me not to smile or open my eyes to your beautiful face.

Something in the simplicity of that morning, in your humming and your gentle touch, had me in raptures. I've never stopped feeling that way around you since.

There is an ache in me when I am away from you, an ache that I seek to banish once we are married, as it is simply torturous being apart. My need for you is insurmountable, and I warn you now that once I return you may find yourself my hostage for the week--royal duties be damned.

I could carry on in salacious detail, but I'm ever aware of how the maids like to snoop, and I fear how Ms Garevsky would scold me should the maids find me writing something indecent. Instead, I'll end this letter and part with the knowledge that I will see you again, if not as soon as I wish. I love you, my darling.

The man lucky enough to call himself your fiancé,

Nikolai

You set down the papers with a soft groan. It was difficult to place the feeling in your chest. There was the missing him, the dull ache of being apart. But then there was the comfortable wash that his words put over you, the bloom of warmth beneath your skin when he mentioned he was thinking of you.

You felt a slight guilt when he recalled one of the mornings in your early days. You couldn't remember that instance, despite it meaning so much to him. Then again, much had happened on that trip, and much had happened since; it felt like another life, growing from captain and second into the loves of each other's lives. And soon, you were going to be married–the king and queen of Ravka.

If you had told your younger self–the girl who could only dream of a life outside of the farm when she heard the stories from her Ravkan neighbour–that you would not only have made Ravka your home but also soon be the queen of it, you would've scoffed. That life was so distant now. The farm was another world entirely. Even Ketterdam, regardless of how formative an experience, seemed sometimes like it existed in someone else's past. There were still the nightmares, the bodies in the harbour that whispered to you, the illness in your throat that appeared when you heard metal against stone like those hooks against the cobbles. But despite it, you were a different person now.

There was a veil between you and your past self. Its opacity varied day to day, but of late it had grown thicker. But perhaps it wasn’t a bad thing, and if it was, you didn’t know.

……….

The shine on your head was substantial, glittering in every direction you moved as you stood in a fitting for your wedding gown. The jewelers had insisted you practice wearing your crown ahead of the wedding. You mostly practiced wearing it when you were alone in your room, not wanting the embarrassment of wearing a formal crown in the halls of the palace when you were not queen yet nor did the occasion call for such a piece. But you thought it might be nice to see the look you'd be married in, so you asked them to bring it out during this fitting. You were trying not to grin too wide as you stood in Queen Mila's crown and your wedding dress, staring at your reflection.

The dressmaker, Daya, was busy around you, making her adjustments after creating the wedding dress the last couple of months. You smiled at her as she worked, putting temporary pins in the back of the garment.

“How long have you been making dresses, Daya?” You inquired.

Her eyes flitted to yours in the mirror, wide and unexpecting. “Almost twenty years, my lady.”

“It shows; your craft is impeccable,” you smiled. “What brought you to this profession?”

She still seemed surprised by your questions as she shifted behind you.

“Are you alright, Daya?” You asked lightly, wanting to clasp your hands together in front of you but being careful not to move unless she told you to.

“Perfectly well, my lady. Only… I am not used to such conversation during a fitting.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” you said softly, frowning a bit. “I'll stay quiet then.”

“No, my lady. You mistake me,” she replied, her body popping out on the other side of you in the mirror as she finished with her pins at your back. “I should rather have said that I welcome the change and the conversation. Seven years I've been the royal dressmaker, and the queen mother did not wish to ask such questions even once. She barely wished for me to speak at all.”

Your lips pursed in disappointment. You met her eyes in the mirror and she ducked her head again.

“Very sorry, my lady. I should not speak in such a manner about your fiancé's mother.”

“No, no, I'm not upset with you, Daya. I'm upset with my forebearer. I'm sorry for her behaviour. You're lovely to speak with.”

She looked as though she didn't know how to accept your compliment or apology beyond giving a soft nod, so you changed the subject.

“Are you familiar with Kerch fashions, Daya?”

She nodded.

“I was hoping to have a couple of dresses made for future palace events, but every Ravkan design I wear or see on courtly ladies feels so impractical. I find the hems are too long, they drag too much, and it drives me up a wall when I wear them. Kerch dresses more often than not have a higher hem, dropping just at the ankle, so there's no dragging.”

“You wish for shorter dresses?”

“Just enough so I'm not tripping over myself, please,” you chuckled quietly. “And a less dramatic bustle would be nice too.”

“I can draw some designs for you, my lady.”

“That would be excellent, Daya. Thank you.”

You heard a slight commotion in the hallways. For a second you felt concern, but then you heard voices and your heart rate picked up, excitement coursing through you.

“Your highness, you're tracking mud through the halls,” you heard Ms Garevsky's voice, admonishing her king. She was the only person in the palace with enough rank in household and age who could speak to him that way.

“I will personally apologize to each of the maids later. For now, I have to see my love, Ms Garevsky. I've been positively downtrodden without her.”

You looked at Daya, stepping off the pedestal and hurrying behind the changing screen as you heard the footsteps come closer down the hallway. The door cracked open, and you caught a glimpse of Nikolai through the small holes in the screen. He was in travel clothing, his jacket dusty and boots caked in dried mud from riding.

“My love?” He called out, somehow not clued in to the fact that you were behind the screen.

“I'm changing out of my dress,” you replied, your back to Daya as she untied your bodice.

“It's bad luck to interrupt her in this moment, your highness,” Garevsky scolded.

“It's far worse luck that I haven't seen her in more than a month,” Nikolai breathed, hands on his hips as he waited not so patiently for you to be done.

Daya slowly slipped the dress down your body, careful of the pins in it. You stepped out of it, and grabbed your dressing robe to tie over your slip. Daya pointed to the box on the table across the room.

“I'll need to get the dress safely in the box, my lady,” Daya whispered to you.

“Nikolai,” you called to him, “I need you to close your eyes and face the east wall of the room.”

“Why?”

“Because I've asked?”

“Very well.”

Daya quickly stepped out of the screen and packed the gown in the large rectangular box she brought it into the palace in. You stepped out too, walking slowly towards your broad-shouldered fiancé.

"I'll take this for the final alterations, my lady," Daya said with a slight smirk as she glanced at Nikolai where he faced away. "I'll get out of your hair."

"Thank you again, Daya," you expressed.

"The pleasure is all mine," she replied as she slipped out of the room with the dress. Ms Garevsky looked between you and Nikolai with a slight cynicism, then retreated as well. You waited until the door was shut to stand in front of him and brush your hand along Nikolai's upper arm.

"You can open your eyes now," you said softly.

He did, instantly grinning at you. “You look gorgeous, my love."

"Oh, hush. I'm not even in the gown."

"No, you're wearing something better."

You furrowed your brows. "And what's that? My sunny disposition?"

His eyes flitted slightly above your head. "No, it's something blue."

The sapphire crown. In your rush to take off the wedding dress, you'd forgotten about the crown on your head. You reached to take it off but Nikolai stopped you.

"Hang on a moment, my love." He held your hands and kissed your forehead. "It looks just as perfect on you as I remember. And you're growing used to it, I see. It's the mark of true royalty when you don't even feel the weight of your crown anymore."

You let out a soft tsk, as though unimpressed with his flirtations. He grinned.

"There's something about you in that crown that just makes me…"

“Pull yourself together, Nik,” you chuckled, wrapping your arms around him again. You sighed into his chest. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Next time I'm away for more than two days, you're coming with me. That was much too long.”

“Agreed.”

“I wish to be married to you,” he murmured into your head.

“Soon,” you breathed.

“I’d protest for an elopement again if it weren't for the fact that now I greatly want to see you in your wedding dress and crown in front of everyone we know.”

“It is less than three weeks away,” you reminded him.

He made a soft hum, wrapping his arms around your upper body.

……….

Anxious didn't begin to describe how you felt.

It must have been hours you lay there awake, though you had no way of knowing just how long exactly. The clock that usually resided on your bedside sat in the sitting room off of your bedroom, put there at the one o'clock mark because of its incessant ticking. It was a foolish notion, that the clock was responsible for your restlessness, but it had been exiled nonetheless.

You had no chance of sleeping. A weight on your chest kept you awake, the heaviness of the impending day pestering you to no end. Tomorrow you would be married, which brought no end of joy to you; you couldn't have found anyone more perfect for you than Nikolai. But tomorrow you would also become queen of Ravka. No preparations in the Grand Palace, experiences during the war, or time on the Volkvolny made you ready for such a title. Inside, you still embodied that farmer's daughter who trekked up and down the hill, milked the cows, and stitched the holes in her brothers’ socks.

Here you were, a poor orphan girl, about to be royalty. And yet you could not overcome this dread. It tasted similar to the smoke and sickness of Ketterdam, like a living rot that greeted you as an old friend whenever you were finally feeling better. Nikolai and his warm embraces and pine-scented linens always staunched the dread, but the maids had gleefully warned you of Ravkan customs of not seeing one another the day before your wedding, and you had foolishly listened. It wasn't since early yesterday morning while sneaking out of his bed that you saw him. Sleeping peacefully, an arm protective but loose around you, his head tilted towards you.

“It's a stupid wives’ tale, my love,” Nikolai complained when you first told him you wanted to respect this custom. “It'll be worse luck not to be together the day before we marry. You might fall out of love without me there to pester you.”

You gave him a soft huff then, and he cracked a smile.

“Fine. I won't seek you out the day before the wedding. But just know I won't be able to keep my eyes or hands off of you on our wedding day.”

“As if you would restrain yourself regardless,” you replied with a roll of your eyes that had him chuckling and pulling you into his chest.

An ache in you begged you to go to Nikolai's room right now, Ravkan tradition be damned. But the maids’ giggling voices gnawed at you, keeping you put. Letting out a long breath, you turned onto your back again. You stared at the floral print of the canopy above you. You had attempted counting all of the flowers before, and not even that put you to sleep. All it did was teach you that there were seventy-four flowers stitched into the fabric.

You shuffled onto your side for the umpteenth time, the bed feeling cold despite all your moving and huffing and puffing. Unable to take it anymore, you threw off your covers and stomped out of bed. You pulled on your robe and slippers, and marched towards the exit, having to go through to the sitting room first. As you pushed open the door you heard a muttered “ouch!”

You softly frowned at your fiancé, who lay in a heap of blankets outside your door. He rubbed the back of his head, undoubtedly where the door had whacked him.

“Sorry,” you murmured, kneeling beside his scrunched-up frame.

“What’s the hurry for?” He softly grumbled.

“I was coming to see you. Why are you here? Have you been sleeping at my door?”

He pursed his lips, glancing around your sitting room. “I couldn’t sleep without you. This room smells like you though, so I thought I wouldn’t be disturbing you if I rested here for the night.”

You raised a brow at him. “On the floor outside of my door? Have you forgotten that there’s not one, or even two, but three sofas in this room?”

“You bring up a great point,” he sighed. He gave you a sheepish look, rubbing at the back of his head again. “But the sofas are all loveseats. My feet dangle uncomfortably.”

“Come to bed then,” you said, softly tugging at his arm. “You fit there.”

“You want to break that little Ravkan custom then?” He smiled teasingly at you.

“I want you to have a restful night’s sleep, one that won’t be found on the floor.”

You stood, extending your hands to him. He took your assistance, lumbering into your bedroom with you. When he collapsed into your bed, he let out a positively euphoric sigh.

“I love your bed.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” you smiled softly, lying down on your side and pulling the layers of blankets up. “After tomorrow I’m unlikely to ever sleep in the queen’s room again.”

“Quite right,” he smiled back.

He rolled closer, wrapping all of his limbs around you. You breathed him in, the scent of pine enough to make your mind quiet and eyes weary.

“Did you have to open your door so harshly?” He murmured into your forehead. “I feel a bump already forming on the back of my head.”

“Sorry,” you hummed, tilting your face up to kiss his chin and then cheek. “Can I get you anything?”

He softly shook his head. “Your company is more than enough to salve.”

At the sound of your amused huff, he squeezed you tighter.

“My wife.”

“Not yet.”

He gently smirked down at you. “It’s a matter of hours now, love.”

“Even still…”

He pressed his lips to your forehead and let them remain there, nuzzling your hairline. His chest rose and fell with the steadiest rhythm. For a long moment he was still, and you thought he might have fallen asleep. But when he shifted again, wrapping his arms lower around your waist and kissing your forehead again, you knew him to be awake. To be present with you.

The new reality was sinking deeper into your chest. The thoughts you figured would dissipate once in his arms were whispering to you again.

“Everything is going to change tomorrow,” you muttered into Nikolai’s collar.

He made a curious hum.

“It’ll all change.”

His hand pressed to your nape, smoothing down the back of your nightgown. “Nothing will change, as you keep reminding me. We'll love each other all the same.”

“Everything else will be different,” you quietly grumbled.

He leaned back and tilted your head towards him, his brow serious as he addressed your concerns. “What is troubling you, my love?”

You let out a huff, hiding your face in his collar again.

“No secrets,” he reminded you with a gentle squeeze.

“I’m finding the words,” you whispered into his skin.

Though patience was not his strong suit, Nikolai waited for you, his hand steadily stroking your back again. The motion of it brought your mind to a lull, and you had trouble piecing your concerns into something concise enough to share. It must have taken a few minutes before you spoke again, but Nikolai waited calmly the entire time.

“I’m afraid that I won’t be myself after tomorrow,” you finally whispered.

His hand stilled on your back. “What are you talking about?”

“I just… I feel like this’ll change me in a way I won’t know how to come back from. Like I’ll lose something about myself.”

When you finally glanced up at his face, he was frowning. “What do you think you’ll lose?”

“I don’t know. Myself. Who I am, who I was. I don’t know.” You put your face to his collar again. “I’m becoming a Lantsov.”

His hand flexed on your back. “Is that what this is about?”

You said nothing, and he pressed on in a gentle voice.

“Marrying me, taking my name, even becoming a queen,” he said, “none of it erases who you’ve been and who you are.”

“But it’s a step away from them,” you murmured.

He sighed, rubbing your back again. He didn’t have to ask who you were referring to. He had helped you carry their weight for many years now. He lived with their ghosts as you did.

“They’ll be with you in this chapter of life just as they have been for the rest, my love.”

“I’m losing my last tie to them, Nikolai,” you whispered.

“I know.” He held you closer, lips brushing the top of your head yet again. “I know names are important. I know it feels like you’re losing this tie. But think of it this way, my dear: our family, you, me, and the future children we grow and nurture, will all be tied because of the Lantsov name.”

You sniffled. “That’s true.”

“It is.”

You wiped at your face. No tears had fallen, but they had glazed over your eyes. You took a moment to let them dissipate.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you too,” Nikolai soothed. “More than the world.”

“That is a hefty statement,” you sighed into his neck.

“It’s the truth.” He slipped into Kerch then, “My soul knows no richer than yours.”

You cracked a small smile against his skin. “Charmer.”

His chest shook with a soft chuckle. “I try my best.”

Nikolai shifted slightly, moving onto his back and pulling you with him. You curled up against his side, putting your head to his chest.

“I cannot wait to be your husband,” he yawned.

You caught the yawn, slowly exhaling it. “I am happy about marrying you, Nik. Truly. Even if I'm slightly nervous. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

..........

EIGHTH YEAR - KAZ

The wind was still as Kaz stood at the harbour, his tie straight now, and his eyes on Inej as she hung off of her parents, hugging them with a reckless abandon that would have made him flinch if he were watching anyone else.

How long had her parents waited for her? How long had they held out hope that she would return to them? How long would it take for such hope to turn to grief?

For Kaz, his hope of finding his sister had turned to grief within his early years alone in the underbelly of the Barrel. Spending his nights fending off roaches and other crooks, Kaz slowly knew she was not returning for him. He would wonder what she was doing, where she had gone after Ketterdam. But he was not foolish enough to think she would pull him out of this place.

All his wondering, all his sleepless nights, he still sometimes wished she were coming back. But wishing was different from hoping; he often made that distinction in his head whenever the ache in his chest began to feel too real. It was a matter of odds; wishing implied a low-stakes bet, putting one chip in for a shot at the pot, but hoping conjured up the Crow Club gamblers who would put all of their chips forward. For those at the table who hoped, their dreams were always dashed when the dealer flipped their final card and they were left without a chip to cash in.

Kaz could let himself wish his sister would return, but he would never let hope turn him into the penniless chump at the table.

The wondering made him imagine her at present, where she landed, and whether she had made a better life for herself. Maybe she worked in a rich family’s house in Fjerda. Maybe she was a Kerch translator for Ravkan merchants. Maybe she had met a Zemeni farmer and begun a family. Or maybe she was dead after all.

That was one of the thoughts that made his chest ache. And it was the only thought that could stir him to hope for a good life for her, or if not a good life, at least a safe and alive existence.

Kaz left the harbour, saying his goodbyes to Inej and her parents. He could tell that he would be alone again now. He would have Jesper and Wylan in the city with him, but there was only so much that their paths would cross now that the two of them had moved out of the Barrel. The loneliness ached like he was nine and had just been kicked out of every Stadwatch precinct after searching for his sister, his only remaining family. In the past eight and a half years, he had never felt more like the lost little boy who came out of that water than he did right now.

Returning to the Crow Club, he put his coat away in his new office, taking a seat at his desk. There was paperwork to be signed, ledgers to check. But he could not narrow his mind on the stacks of paper yet, preoccupied with his damn wondering.

Did he even remember her face? Sometimes he forgot and had to piece her features together like a puzzle. Even then, he wasn't certain of the image of her in his mind; she just looked like unreliable fragments of the sister who read him stories and cuddled him close.

Baby brother, she used to call him. There was a time he hated that name, but now? Now he'd burn all the riches in the world just to see her smile, call him baby brother, and pull him into her side. But, of course, he was grown now, and not the same boy he used to be. He didn't know if he could handle having his sister's arms around him, despite how he used to relish in them. He liked to think that if she somehow found him after all this time, he could handle the sisterly love she used to dole out to him, but he couldn't be certain that the waters wouldn’t begin to drown him, that he wouldn’t push her away.

His only certainty was that she would never see her baby brother again, because even if--by some miracle--she found Kaz, she would not find the boy she knew. There was no Kaz Rietveld, a sweet child who picked flowers for her. There was only Kaz Brekker, the bastard of the Barrel.

She would detest him if she ever found him, the man who murdered her baby brother.

..........

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment on this new part--I really appreciate the feedback! If you want to be tagged in this series or to be added to the Nikolai taglist please comment on this part or send me an ask. Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

Taglist: Tomorrow or later tonight I will reblog with the tags!

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fic #grishaverse fanfic #nine long years

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