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stressed-chaos · 2 years

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Darkness and Light - Darkling

Darkling x Sun Summoner!Fem!reader/OC

This is to make up for all the lost time! There is no use of a name, so it can be read as an original female character or as a female reader.

Let me know what you think of this one! This is my first time writing the Darkling so I'm nervous.

Warning: My shitty writing, food, mentions of arguing, fire, fighting, canon level violence (not too graphic), the cut being used, mentions of being sick, pregnancy.

If anyone wants to be tagged in any of my continuous daydreaming, they can let me know!

Darkness and light do not fit together. Shadows are scared by the light. Enough of shadows can cover the light, like her soul will be if she stays with him.

These were the words that traveled everyday in the halls of the Little Palace.

The sun was sinking into the river, relieving the burning water of its agony to rest for the night. Far away from the ice cold lands of Fjerda, in the shadow-fold separated land of Ravka, she was just about finished buying some ingredients needed for dinner. Aleksander had demanded to come along with, but she insisted on having some time for herself, ignoring his growing over protective efforts each day. She was a sun summoner after all, she knew how to defend herself.

He had not left her side for the past few days, taking her along for meetings and glaring at anyone who dares come close to her. In the night, he held her tighter, mindful not to hurt her, but in a protective stance. She was finally able to coax her husband to attend to an urgent task, slipping away for a while as soon as he left. She appreciated his protectiveness, but she was getting frustrated and did not have the heart to tell him of her misery, even if the pout formed on his face would be a sight to see. He was already taking care of her when she was sick and did not want him to think she was taking it for granted. Despite their arguments on the matter, his stubbornness won and she suspected their loyal guards were already following her from a distance.

Inspecting a tomato, she noticed a tall and broad presence standing next to her and she made way for them to complete their task. Soon, she moved away to inspect another vegetable but noticed the figure from the corner of her eyes. Were they standing closer than before?

She was prepared to use her powers if needed, but was not wishing to as it was causing more and more of an effort to use them for longer periods. Aleksander had zipped his lips on why that was the cause, but her symptoms supported the claim of it being the flu.

The person looked Fjerdan, with the tall build and broad shoulders, but she wasn’t quite sure and still keeping a mindful watch, she slowly started backing away, sure they were following her. They had noticed though, and their hands were moving in a Grisha movement discreetly. Her eyes grew wide at realizing it was an unfamiliar Inferni, and they were about to attack her. She successfully evaded the first attack, and tried to call the light with blood pounding in her head, adrenaline filling her body. Before she could respond, however, she heard the slashing whoosh of the cut being released and could only watch frozen as their body sliced in two.

She looked over her shoulder, seeing Ivan trying to calm her heartbeat, another Heartrender trying to fight the few people advancing towards them. But in the midst of it all, stood her husband, calling upon his shadows near her, to hide her from all the chaos. His eyes suddenly grew wide, looking over her shoulder and she ducked just in time to evade a sword blow. With an adrenaline filled instinct, she blinded the attacker and kicked them for good measure, rushing towards her husband when she was done. The screams of the battle became distant as she questioned her lover about the situation.

He grasped her hands, and silenced her with a quick kiss, ushered her body towards Ivan, eyes pleading not to fight his judgment when he saw her mouth opening. She struggled against Ivan, pleading with him to let her be with him, to not leave him alone in the center of an ambush. Her kicking and screaming was to no avail and eventually Ivan had to slow her heart down enough for her to faint, so he could safely carry her to the place his general had requested.

The sun summoner felt her world spinning, and felt arms catching her before she could fall. Her last words were a curse for Ivan, mixed with another sound of protest. Of course, she couldn’t fight the heartrender's effects and succumbed to the darkness, praying to the saints to keep her husband safe.

The exhaustion of the day, which felt like a week, had taken a toll on her and she awoke the next day, panicking when she didn’t recognise her surroundings. She rushed out of the bed with shaky legs, determined to find her whereabouts and her husband. Her world was still spinning but she shook her head to get rid of that and all the negative thoughts that danced in her head. She vaguely remembered a battle, and Aleksander and his request. She had to get to him and help.

The sun hit her face as soon as she opened the door and her hands instinctively went to her eyes, shielding herself. If he was here, he would’ve made a joke about her being the sun summoner and hiding from the sun. His laughing face brought tears to her eyes and she rushed even faster, ignoring the burning sun hitting her foot, urging her to halt.

Aleksander sighed as his army finished arresting everyone that was left alive, though his burning anger was on the verge of exploding and he was on the verge of slicing each of them in half. They don’t get to hurt his wife and be left alive. But he was supposed to be a diplomatic person and with the information he gets out of these people, can help him get more information on why they were planning to capture her.

But right now, he needs to get to his love.

As soon as he heard the word of his guards, he called Ivan and asked her to bring her to one of the safe houses they had built over the years. She was perfectly capable of defending herself but having been sick for a few days, she had not regained her full strength and shouldn’t be draining herself by using the small science even more.

He set apart the anger cursing through him, which was slowly being overtaken by pure fear. He threw away the negative thoughts and all the what ifs. He will get to his wife. She is safe. Guards are already there.

Thank the saints, he reached in time. He did not get a moment to imagine what might have happened if he was late, or of anything else. He greeted her as quickly as he could in the midst of a battle and ushered her towards Ivan, pleading for her to be safe. Relief swept through him when she was finally away from the chaos and he went to help his fellow Grisha.

He left someone in charge of interrogating them, not wasting another moment to rush to his wife. He was led to her room by Ivan and the sight he saw made him sigh happily, she was sleeping and she was safe. He kissed her forehead, “Never scare me like that again, milaya,” and left the room so she could get her much needed rest.

The news he heard from Ivan made him forget all his wounds.

The grand doors to the palace-like place opened but this time she was ready with a ball of light, its fate deciding on the person walking through those doors. The fate was for the ball to die, as none other than Aleksander walked through the doors, freezing as soon as he saw her. His steps faltered, and he stopped, contemplating if he should go to her or not. This choice was made for him by his wife, who ran in full speed towards him, colliding in his arms and kissing him deeply. Black kefta kissed another, reuniting the lovers after the almost heart attack of the ambush.

They broke apart for much needed oxygen, but did not leave each other's arms. Aleksander buried his nose in her hair, while she hid her face in his chest, smiling, both muttering, “You’re safe.”

She sprang apart suddenly, looking him up and down and he understood, “I’m unharmed, milaya.”

Seeing as she was about to question, he continued, “I’ll tell you everything, but can we sit first?” He could read her mind.

She nodded and he gently set her, like a raindrop that glides on a leaf. She lied down, and immediately put her head in his lap, burying her face in his stomach. Their hands were intertwined in a way and appeared as if they were one. She could hear his heart beating out of his chest and her own heart matched that rhythm. After a moment of peace, he began.

“I received a letter earlier. The Fjerdan spies had informed them of your weakness and insistence to go out on your own. It was a planned ambush. They were after us.”

“But there was an Inferni…” she said, confused.

“Those were some who abandoned the war effort and seeked refuge in Fjerda. It was agreed in exchange for them spying in the Little Palace. They were turning against their own people.”

She gasped. “They could’ve chosen not to fight, we gave them a choice.”

“They did not agree with our efforts.”

“I’m sorry, Sasha. I shouldn’t have ran.”

“No, it was my fault too. I shouldn’t have been forcing you to stay.”

Moments of peace were what they longed for. With their duties for their people, and dealing with the king, spared them little time for each other. Still their deep love made their marriage work into an example which could be written in romance novels.

Hand in hand, laughing, they were taking a stroll. They had decided to stay for a few days and let other people deal with the issues. It was their sanctuary, untouched by the stress of work, war and the rebellion across the fold.

She noticed the surroundings, having not given them a second thought before, “This could be a beautiful place to live, Aleksander.”

He agreed, “A perfect place for us…and our little miracle.”

He hesitated. They had talked of kids, but it was more of a one day situation. When Ivan had told him the news, Aleksander was overjoyed, and had personally decided to kill all those alive for trying to hurt his family. When that was settled, he grew worried, Would he be a good father? Would their kid love him if they found out he made the shadow fold? Would they still love him when they find out about the people he has killed?

His worries were taken away by the sound of the door opening and his wife’s silhouette.

Her eyebrows furrowed, “Our what?”

“You know what.”

“Don’t you think if it was, I would be the one to tell you, not the other way round?”

“Heartrenders, milaya.”

She gasped. A heartrender could detect the heartbeat of the little kid residing in her belly. If a heartrender says so, there is a minute chance that they would be wrong. Her hands instinctively went to her stomach and were met with her husbands’. She looked at him, teary eyed, “We’re going to be parents?”

“We’re going to be parents,” his words sounded a little distracted, he was frowning. She noticed and tried to calm his worries, “If they are anything like me, they will love their father because of everything he has done for us and his people.”

He chuckled. She knew him so well.

“I hope they are just like their mother.”

She shook her head, “I hope they are a perfect blend of us both.”

Aleksander pulled her closer by her waist, burying his face in her neck, “I love you, milaya.”

“I love you too, sweet love.”

Only a few words echoed with their reality.

Once together, darkness and light are a force that can destroy countless worlds.

They compliment one another and are forever content as long as they are together.

I actually am thinking of it as a prologue for a Kaz Brekker x reader fic (with the same name) I have plans for (he may be slightly OOC...and I'll try to keep it gender neutral, but no plans just yet), but this can also be read as a solo work!

I'm thinking to begin working on it after I finish rewriting my old fic, but who knows!

#ben barnes #benjamin barnes #benjamin thomas barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes x y/n #ben barnes x you #fanfic #shadow and bone #shadow and bone spoilers #darkling #darkling x reader #aleksander morozova #kaz brekker #six of crows #Darkness and Light #darkling x oc #darkling x fem oc

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ignyxdaughter · 9 months

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𝐗𝐈𝐗 - 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍

(𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 /𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫��𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧)

MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

A/N: English is not my first language. I’m gonna mix the books and the tv show to make the story line clearer (I read soc, the grisha trilogy and its tales). I don’t own Shadow and Bone and TO/Legacies characters; they’re, respectively, Leigh Bardugo, L. J. Smith and Julie Plec. Also, this is how I think the Darkling is,and some of the events will be changed due to the story's course!

words: 2873

warnings: mentions of witch/grisha hunt

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

They are now cuddled, both their backs resting on the Black Heretic's fountain while gazing at the woods. The witch rests her head on the Grisha's chest, hearing the calming rhythm of his heartbeat. Him, on the other hand, lets his thumb caress her arm.

This is all so new to them, so... peaceful. It seems like a weight has left their shoulders as soon as they found equality in each other, the desire of wanting someone to understand them finally fulfilled.

"So—", Katherine's soothing voice breaks the comfort silence "what made you change your mind?"

Kirigan doesn't take his eyes off the tree he's been looking at for the past minutes. He is still enjoying the fantastic sensation of believing that everything is going to be alright now. "I started to think about what you had said. The Second Army is young, none of them have experienced the Ravka before the Fold. They have the idea that the Unsea is the issue, and that all of Ravka's problems will be solved once it vanishes. However, it is the complete opposite: if we destroy it, things will worsen." She nods, patiently waiting for him to continue. "There is no way to guard the entire border, therefore, Ravka will be exposed to many travelers. The Fjerdans and Shu Hans will take advantage of the country's vulnerability and attack. The drüskelle will have more access to accomplish their hunts too." He turns to the woman by his side, who is gazing at him since he started speaking. "Grishas will be in great danger if the Fold is destroyed."

"The Supernaturals too."

"Ravka will be no more safe haven."

"No, it won't."

"Also—", he takes a sharp breath to gather forces to tell her his conclusion "you were right."

The shadow singer's smile almost reaches her eyes. Oh, how she loves to be told that! No matter how many times that often happens, the pride feeling filling her chest always appears. "Pardon? I don't think I quite heard you."

"I won't repeat myself, Katherine."

"Why not?" Her smirk increases as she sees him scowl towards her. "Your words had such a beautiful sound."

He rolls his eyes. "You are not used to hearing that, I assume."

"Oh, no—", she chuckles. "I am more than used to it. After all, I am always right."

"If people see Alina's powers expanding the Fold, they will label Grishas as aberrations again." He ignores her to continue his line of thought. "Another hunt will be made and, with the Unsea blocking the borders, it'll be difficult to escape. The only way to protect ourselves will be killing all the hunters, which will practically be almost all otkazat'sya."

Ravka will be the stage of a massacre, the unsaid words float through the air. All due to the fight for survival.

"I want my country to be a safe haven, not a remembrance of a bloodshed."

Katherine's gaze softens in compassion. She shares that wish with him; she wants the Grishas and Ravka's Supernaturals to see their country as a secure place where they cannot fear. It would be wonderful if Os Alta transformed into what New Orleans is to many: home.

"Although living now more peacefully, your people still dread, Kirigan. Even receiving all the trainment in the world, there is still the terrifying thought of being attacked by the drüskelle and losing a fight with them. That fear will only grow if they witness a magical imbalance, especially one made by their General. Your Army will work based on dread instead on loyalty, and that is dangerous, because, soon, they will grow tired of feeling this." Her light green eyes are full of worry as she looks at him deeply. "This happened a lot through the centuries, and it always ended with the leader murdered by his own people."

"I know. I searched about those historical revolutions." Her eyebrows raise in surprise to see The Darkling agreeing. "Most of them were because the monarchy prioritized the court instead of the commoners, which were the majority. Only a few people had good life conditions, while the plurality suffered with poor ones. They got sick of injustice and repression, tired of having to survive to make others live. They wanted that possibility for themselves, so, after generations had passed and nothing had been done, they decided to fight for it."

"I witnessed some revolutions and that is what happened, indeed."

"I have lived the conditions of these commoners." Kirigan admits with a heavy chest. Sometimes, he is still affected with the memories of his tough childhood. He used to eat poorly, suffer from the cold, fear the dark when the night came, train for straight exhausting hours in order to learn how to control his powers, have to make new identities in a short period of time, and pass through many other unpleasant experiences. "It was terrible."

The sudden warm hand on his cheek tells him that he is not alone, that Katherine has suffered the same as him and as the many unfortunate people that were part of revolutions. "Survival isn't life, Kirigan. But it is just when you are old that you learn that the change will only come if you fight for it. That's why your Grishas are so immersed in the Fold's utopia: their youthness makes them believe that the time has finally come, that Alina will be the savior to fix all the problems." She offers him a sad smile. "My people are old and are struggling to live in Os Alta poorest area. One of the reasons why they hate your lightscum is this, since she represents all the illusion they had once believed."

"So they are willing to fight for change?"

She nods. "With all of their strength."

"If I promise better life conditions, will an alliance be possible?"

"Only if you guarantee that you have no intentions to destroy the Unsea. Firstly, you have to win their trust, especially the leaders' trust, then you may focus on a deal."

He gently grabs her hand that still is on his cheek. "I think I'll need a bit of your assistance, then."

The witch smirks as soon as she sees the glint on his dark brown eyes. "It will be my pleasure."

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"I swear it was her, Genya!" Michelle stops on her tracks as she hears Alina's voice echo through the room she was entering to clean.

"That's impossible."

"No, it isn't, and you know it!"

The Tailor shakes her head, making many of her red strands fly in the air. "Ms. Anya was playing a dangerous game here, Alina. The Darkling saw her as a threat and sent the oprichniki after her. She's probably dead now."

The Sun Summoner's brown eyes widened in shock. "Dead?"

"Yes." No. Michelle had to restrain a scoff. "I honestly think she was a spy."

"A spy? Really?"

"She knew too much for an ordinary otkazat'sya."

While starting to tie the room where the two Grishas were, Michelle began to make her own opinions. They aren't completely wrong: this specific servant knew too much and was considered by the General himself a threat, which led him to hunt her. However, she is pretty much alive, or better, Katherine Mikaelson is alive. No one knows what happened to Ms. Anya, she just... vanished.

"But, Genya, I swear I saw her today!" The blond's body stills as she cleans a desk. "Are you sure about that all? She seemed so real."

"There's no way Ms. Anya isn't dead, Alina. You probably were tired and hallucinated."

The younger girl looks deeply at the other, brown eyes meeting blue ones. "I know what I saw. Ms. Anya was at the beginning of the woods early this morning. She was hidden, but I saw her looking at Kirigan's chambers."

Oh, damn it, Katherine! You let yourself get caught by a teenager?! Michelle's face instantly turns into a scowl due to the anger she is feeling towards her cousin. By the Ancestors, Kat, you really turn into a fool when you like someone!

The Tailor takes a few seconds to answer her friend, but, finally, she shrugs her off with a hand. "I still think it's nothing to worry about."

I hope so, Genya, because I'm gonna kill Katherine if she drags the family into another trouble with insane plans.

The water singer leaves the Sun Summoner's chambers with heavy steps. As a way to calm herself, she goes to her little room and begins to read one of the books she had picked early in the morning. It is written in French, which eases her off with the thought of being close to her native language, and the author describes actions that may help people who are suffering with memory loss. After all, Michelle isn't certain that a spell will recover all of Agatha's remembrances.

Former lovers who had a long and healthy relationship with the victim may trigger good memories. However, the paramour must reproduce habits that were performed frequently during the time they were a couple.

Her blue eyes widened in sudden realization. There is someone that can aid them.

Of course, she didn't talk to Agatha's ex-lover for decades, but she had a good relationship with her; every Mikaelson — unless Katherine — had. The woman is a mesmerizing person and powerful witch, always willing to help the Supernatural. Michelle is sure that if she sends her a letter explaining about Agatha's current situation, the woman will appear in Os Alta in less than a day.

The water singer closes the book with a smile and immediately stands up. She needs to tell Katherine her new idea, but if her cousin takes too long to arrive, then she will handle the matter in her own hands.

With that in mind, the blond confidently states: "If there's any of Kat's shadows here, tell her to meet me at the Little Palace's library now."

────────── ★ ★ ★ ──────────

Hours had passed, and the couple had to go back to their respective places. After Kirigan had just left with his horse, Katherine was almost entering a shadow to go to Praecantrix when she heard Ikatris' smooth voice: Your cousin wants you at the Little Palace's library now. Seemed urgent.

She frowns with the unusual situation and mentally asks the dark figure: Which one?

The spoiled French.

Despite knowing patience isn't one of Michelle's virtues, she can't help but worry, her intuition wanting to alert that something is about to happen. However, as an attempt to ignore this uncomfortable feeling, the witch rolls her light green eyes at the shadow's answer. You know their names, Ikatris. So why do you insist on calling them with these nicknames?

She can almost feel the creature smirking. Because it irritates them.

Katherine can't help but chuckle. Her cousins indeed hate all of Ikatris' nicknames and always tell her to talk to the shadow in order to make him stop, however, it never worked. He is immediately delighted as he sees Hope — manic tribid — sends him a death glare, Michelle — spoiled French — huffs in impatience, Nick — justice alpha — rolls his eyes in annoyance, Agatha — dramatic queen — holding the urge to attack him, and Levi — Kol's counterfeit copy — walking away from him to not get into a fight.

Why don't you give me a nickname too? I have never received one from you.

Because you're Katherine, there's no one like you. You are already unique.

She smiles, a warm sensation reverberating in her chest. Thank you, Ikatris.

The witch then orders her shadows to guide her to the Little Palace's library, where she finds Michelle pacing through the Norse Runes book session. She seems nervous, clenching her fingers on the long white skirt, her blond hair that is usually perfect, is now disheveled. "What happened?"

The French woman turns abruptly and looks at her in rage. "You!" She extends her hands towards the brunette as if wanting to strangle her.

Katherine frowns. "What have I done?"

"What have you—" She seems to be using all of her control to not start yelling in fury. "What have you done?!"

The shadow singer seems uncertain of her actions now. Has she found out about Malyen Oretsev? "Yes?"

"You let yourself be seen by Alina!"

The nervousness began to grow in her stomach. "What?"

"Today's morning she saw you in the beginning of the woods, looking at Kirigan's chambers. Is this true?"

Shit.

"I... I, ehm—"

"Damn it, Katherine!"

"I didn't know she was there! I was focused on a more important task!"

Michelle grabs her cousin's shoulders to make her look straight at her. "She's sure Ms. Anya isn't dead, and now I think Genya suspects that too."

The older woman shrugs as an attempt to exhale confidence in order to calm the blond down. "They don't know much, Michelle. I am sure it will do us no harm."

"You were supposed to be the responsible one who fret about things that go out of control, not me!" She lets go of the brunette and crosses her arms, a pout forming on her red lips. "I didn't enjoy this."

"Well, welcome to my life.”

"It sucks."

"I know." Katherine sighs and slowly approaches her frustrated cousin. "But I also know that you wouldn't call my shadows only to yell at me. What happened?"

Her blue eyes face the light green ones. "I have a plan that may work."

"About?"

"Agatha." She passes a hand through her long blond strands, a habit that she does when is restless. "There is someone that may trigger some of her memories, and, maybe, even help with the spell."

"That is wonderful news!"

"Yeah, but not for you."

She raises an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

The water singer looks away, averting her cousin's gaze. "I just want to know that this is the best for Agatha. I would never do anything that could harm her."

If Kathreine wasn't sure why the French woman was acting like that, now she knows: Michelle did the idea before consulting her, the brain of the family and the mastermind behind the plans. "Michelle—"

"And, maybe, I-I've become a little anxious because I haven't found Hope and it was taking too long for you to arrive."

She clenches her teeth, already predicting the enormous trouble she got themselves into. "Michelle—"

"So I took the matter in my own hands before consulting any of you and sent a letter to her."

"Michelle, who did you call?"

She gives her a nervous smile. "The brightest person in this world."

The shadow singer frowns, though her stomach is currently twisting in dread, since it seems that this someone could be a horrible person. "Who?"

"She is just so full of light, you know." Despite continuing to smile, the younger one begins to hug herself, as if this would protect her from Katherine's reaction.

The realization sinks at the brunette's chest like an anchor. Soliel Alvarez is a light singer witch that was Agatha's paramour for half a century. She is a woman obsessed with power and very practical: get in her way and you will die. For her, time is precious, so, unless it's necessary, she doesn't waste time with torture ceremonies.

Beyond hating shadow singers for their ability to dim her glow, she also hates her own kind. According to her, light singers are people devoid of character and who do not deserve trust or loyalty. For these reasons, she feels no remorse when draining an equal; in fact, she takes satisfaction in seeing their despair as she senses the victim's power entering her veins and thus making her stronger.

For sharing the same thought as her about lightscums, Katherine doesn't hate Soliel, however, she is always careful towards the woman. After all, light singers aren't trustable. The adopted Mikaelson relationship with her is tense, and only Levi knows that his cousin slightly likes Agatha's ex-lover.

Soliel is a difficult person to deal with, someone that will always try to trick you if you aren't aware of her true nature. In other words, she is a brutalest version of the shadow singer, and Katherine isn't in her right mind to meet her. She is already worried with Agatha's cure, about her affair — is that what they have now? — with Kirigan, with Ravka's Supernatural's current situation and with the execution of the coup. Soliel here will only overwhelm her and worsen the emotional weariness she is still feeling.

"You didn't."

Michelle looks at the ground as if it was the most mesmerizing thing in life. "Her and Agatha's relationship was so healthy and ended so well. They're still friends and see each other sometimes!"

The British woman can feel her breathing fasten. "Please tell me you are lying."

"And the book said that a good ex-lover can help on triggering memories, so—"

"Oh, Michelle!"

"—Soliel's coming to Ravka."

Everything stops. The air in her lungs, the frustration, the racing thoughts in her mind and the nervous twisting in her stomach are all gone. Suddenly, the forces in her entire body disappear too. Soon, her clear vision is replaced by the dark and she falls on the floor.

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hottpinkpenguin · 1 year

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The Sun Blade - Darkling X OC

Book 1 of the Blade and Blood series Summary: Cresana is training to become a Blade, a group of highly trained assassins who protect the Grisha on the battlefield, until she attracts the attention of a particular Grisha with a special plan for her unique talents. Crossposted on AO3: read it here Chapters: 15 Content Warnings for: canon-typical violence, canon divergence

#darkling #darkling x oc #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x oc #darkling imagine #aleksander morozova imagine #general kirigan #general kirigan x oc #general kirigan imagine #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #ben barnes imagine #shadow and bone imagine

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 2 years

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With Fire and Blood, and the Darkness in Between

Darkling/General Kirigan/Aleksander Morozova x Targaryen!Reader

Part 2

Shadow and Bone and Game of Thrones crossover

Part 1

A/N: Part 2 is finally here lovelies! Just wanted to provide some backstory for the character before she meets General Kirigan in the next chapter. I hope y’all enjoy! As always, comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I love hearing you guys’ thoughts! 💜💜💜

Summary: Imagine being the youngest Targaryen and the half-sister of Daenerys. You had lived most of your life in captivity, shut off from the world after your brother Viserys married you off to an old lord at the age of 12 as means to get rid of you for being a half-breed. You used to be a bright and free-spirited child who saw nothing but the goodness in those around you, but the experiences you faced made you grow cold and distant with a lack of remorse for the wicked. Not wanting to live the life your brother had chained you to, you ran away and finally reunited with your sister and helped her win back the throne. (Season 8 never happened) Wanting to build a life of your own, you set sail across the seas with your dragons and army, traveling far and wide before venturing into foreign land in a place called Ravka where you stumble upon a kingdom with a king who you loathe, believing him undeserving of rule. During your stay there, you cross paths with a certain raven-haired general with aspirations of his own. Will you stand alongside him in his mission, or will you take the throne for your own and rule as Y/N Targaryen, the Dragon Witch Queen of Ravka?

Warnings: vulgar language, mentions of rape and abuse and suicide, mentions of abuse against a minor, mentions of incestuous themes, violence and gore, sexual themes. This series will have some dark themes so please read at your own risk.

Notes: slow burn, angst, enemies to lovers trope. Flashbacks are in italics. Current time is in normal font.

Day had turned to night, and all the light that remained of the rays of the sun touching upon the earth, had disappeared into blackness like the life you just left behind. You had remained by Ser Bjorn Maurinus's side that entire evening, seated on one of the wooden crates as you stared out into the pitch black depths of the sea that not even the moon itself was able to cast it's light upon.

Your hands were tucked into the pocket of your dress, the wool fiber of the fabric irritating the softness of your pampered skin as your fingers played with the glass vial that Sir Bjorn had given you. Contemplating the event that was ever so quickly dawning near, you had half a mind to throw yourself into the ocean and let the obsidian waters consume every last ounce of your very being. And though you so desperately longed for those cold hands of death to wrap it’s claw like fingers around your heart and tear it out, your thoughts only ever returned to your sister who would only be waiting your return until death itself stood in front of her.

You had attempted to strike a conversation with the forbidding Braavosi whose resemblance you found to be similar to a hawk, but your words only fell on deaf ears, for the man had not uttered a single response in your direction, his expression as stony as the last. And so you sat in silence, shivering against the cold ocean breeze that felt like daggers across your cheek, with nothing but the furs of your cloak and the howling of the wind to keep you company.

"M'lady." you heard a gruff, slightly slurred voice from behind you, turning around to see that one of Lord Pythias's men had approached you, a small lantern held in his grimy hand and a piece of dried beef in the other. The small yellow flame kept within the lantern illuminated parts of his face in almost a ghoulish manner, darkening every line and indentations that marked his skin. His face and overall appearance was poorly kept, as was with many of the sailors and the men aboard this ship. His hair, like sticks of straw, thinned at his scalp before dropping down to his shoulders in a knotted mess, and his clothes hung loosely about his frail body as if they recently belonged to someone of a much larger size. His beady, yellowed eyes roamed your tiny frame as he chewed on the piece of meat like a dog would on a bone, flashing his blackened rotted teeth and his swollen gums which you had noticed as signs of scurvy from the books you came across from your days spent in the library back home. "Lord Pythias demands your presence."

You twisted your lips at the sight, clutching your cloak closer to you from his gaze before quickly searching to Ser Bjorn for any kind of support in the matter, but the man only looked ahead at the darkness of the sea that mirrored his dark eyes. "Alright." You nodded, refusing to meet the sailor's eyes, making sure to steer clear of him as you made your way over to the chambers of his lord while your mind remained ever so focused on the vial in your pocket. The ship swayed amongst the waves beneath your feet as you maintained your balance, but the prying eyes and snickers of the men around you made you cower, wanting to fall right through the wooden boards beneath you.

The world seemed to close in around you as you brought your hand up the door that separated you and your unworthy husband, the very thing that would soon dictate how tonight and the rest of your days would end as you shut your eyes in a small prayer to the gods. You had never thought yourself to be a religious person, but in this moment where it seemed as if the whole world was waiting to devour you whole, you plucked out whatever faith you had left in you, begging the gods to your aid before rapping your knuckles lightly against the slab of wood. "May I come in?"

"You may."

The room was dull and lifeless as you entered, lit only by a few candles that somehow seemed to darken the area despite its purpose, as if it were sending you a warning about the dangers you would soon face. You could not help but scrunch your nose in disgust at the dampness of the air once you stepped in and closed the door behind you; the smell of sweat and mold reeking heavily about. Lord Pythias was stationed at the foot of his bed, finishing away his plate of bread and dried meat, wearing nothing but a cotton tunic and his trousers. Twisting your lips at his mannerisms, from the crumbs falling from his mouth and bouncing off his big belly before falling at his exposed and hairy feet, to the sound of the smacking of his lips that echoed across the room convinced your ears to want to tear themselves from your head.

Lord Pythias gave you a once over, licking off his sausage-like fingers before beckoning you over with his grubby hand. “Come here.”

You hesitated, your nails digging into the skin on your palms as you compelled your legs to move from their stubborn place despite no matter how much you wanted to run in the opposite direction away from him. Slowly, you made your way over to the man, your each step seemingly smaller than the last while your eyes remained glued to the wooden floor. Your footsteps resonated in the chamber until his hand landed a heavy strike to your cheek, catching you completely off guard as the sound echoed through the silence of the room.

“You will answer me with m’lord. Is that clear?”

The burning left over by the strike of his hand spread through your face as you stared at the floor for a moment, frozen in shock with your hand pressed to your stinging cheek. You could have sworn your nails were going to tear through the skin of your palm as you forced yourself to look up at him with misty eyes masked by the rage behind them, your voice small though every inch of your skin burned with the urge to slit his throat. “Yes….my lord. Forgive me my lord.”

“Now fetch me a glass of ale there on the table.” The man let out a loud and heavy burp before setting the plate aside and wiping his hands off at the front of his tunic, his hands leaving stained streaks of yellow from the oil that coated them as his bulging eyes watched you hungrily as you walked away. “And when you’re through with that. I want you to undress yourself.”

“.......Yes my lord.” You muttered in response with your back facing him as you wiped away the hot tear that fell down your cheek. Your hands shook as you uncorked the warm bottle of ale, pouring the amber colored liquid into his goblet and remembering what Ser Bjorn had told you at your wedding feast. Just a single drop. Slowly, you ever so slightly turned your head to make sure he wasn’t looking in your direction. Seeing that he was currently preoccupied with undressing himself, you slipped your hand into your pocket, pulling out the small glass vial and staring into the slightly tinted liquid, your eyes distant with the thoughts that filled them. Damn you Viserys, damn you and your ambitions.

You found yourself wanting nothing more than to return home, even preferring to be in the presence of your brother than here with this vile old man. At least back home, you had your sister. Here, you had no one, not a single soul. You were alone, a Targaryen alone in the world. Popping open the cork, you let a single drop fall into the cup before returning it to your pocket, watching the potion ripple out like the clouds of an oncoming storm. Swirling the contents of the goblet in your hands and watching the potion disappear into the drink, you headed back to where Pythias sat on the bed, disgusted and terrified with his naked appearance. After all, you had never seen a man unclothed before, nor was it something that you wanted to see in the first place. With trembling hands that thankfully went unnoticed, you handed him his goblet, watching the man lift the cup to his lips.

Lord Pythias tilted his head back, downing the drink in one go. And as you expected it to soon be over, that you would be able to taste just the smallest amount of your short-lived freedom, your heart skipped a beat as he grabbed your wrist roughly, yanking you closer to him. "I thought I gave you an order, little bitch."

“P-please.” Tears once again formed in your eyes as you tried to twist out of his hold, but his large clammy hand only grew tighter around your delicate wrist, his rough fingers like sandpaper against your skin while his other hand seized the fabric of your dress in an attempt to tear it off.

Thump! Ba-thump!

Came the sound within the confines of your mind, repeating against the violent throbbing in your head.

Thump! Ba-thump!

You could not tell if it was the chamber door or the beating of your own heart that enfolded your senses as the terror within you only increased. Your heart pounded rapidly by the minute, growing steadily against the silence around you. Trapped between your panic-stricken fear and the strength of the man more than twice your size, there came this sharp pain that felt as if a thousand needles had pierced through your ribcage, as if your own heart were to burst through it’s cage. Your skin dropped in temperature, loosing all warmth as you began to tremble.

You were beyond terrified, unsure of if you would scream or vomit at the situation at hand between the spiked drink and his nakedness and the fact that he was still conscious. In fact, you tried to scream, but not a single sound escaped the hollowness in you. Even if you did, who could have heard you or would even come to your rescue. No one. And that fact alone filled you with dread. You began to fear the potency of the potion that Ser Bjorn had given you, wondering whether it would do what was promised in order to protect yourself from this man before you. You were frightened of what would happen if it did not work, of what were to happen to you. What if it were a test? What if there was nothing in that vial in the first place and that this was all just a test of your loyalty to your new lord?

But your hopes were soon granted, for as you stood, you watched Lord Pythias sway in his seated position, slurring out something incomprehensible as his eyes slowly shut before his large body fell back on the bed in a deep sleep. A breath that you had kept in this whole time was finally released from your lips in a trembled silent cry as you stepped back from the bed with staggering steps, your eyes glued to the sleeping form of the man who was just a second away from assaulting you.

A small glint against the candlelight had caught your attention, and as you turned towards it, you found Lord Pythias's small knife sitting almost invitingly upon the table. You gazed upon the blade in a tranced state as if it were calling out to you, beckoning you to it. Your mind jumped to complete desperation as you returned your attention to the sleeping form of Lord Pythias, listening to his snores rumbling through the emptiness of his chamber. Refusing to leave your eyes off him in fear that he would stir from his state of unconsciousness, you closed your fingers around the handle of the knife and clutched it tightly in your sweaty palms. Your breaths heaved in your chest as you neared him with the blade raised above you, the room seeming to darken around you until a hand covered itself over your mouth.

Your eyes widened at the contact, feeling an arm wrap around your midsection as you tried to scream, but your voice was only muffled as the intruder yanked the knife from your hands and set it back on the table before lifting you up and carrying you out from the chamber. You thrashed violently against the individual, your arms flailing about as you tried to tear away at him, but your efforts came fruitless as he only held you tighter, dragging you out before taking you away to a darkened corner of the ship. His hands loosened around your torse to toss you to the floor, and as you fell down to your knees, you looked up at your captor to see none other than Ser Bjorn standing above you with a scowl on his thin lips.

"You?" You gasped, bringing yourself up to glare right back at him. "What was that for?"

"Have you lost your mind GIRL?" Ser Bjorn bent over to hiss at you, grabbing you roughly by your arm and pulling you further into the darkness, away from the prying eyes of the immoral men that lurked about the ship. "What in the seven hells did you think you were doing?!"

"I was trying to kill him." You scowled.

"With what?" Ser Bjorn let go of your arm with a scoff, straightening up his tall frame as he did so. "A dinner knife? Has the girl even held a blade before?"

"I want him dead!"

"Oh? And what then? What of the rest of the men here hm? You think one dead fuck is going to keep the rest of these cunts from doing anything to you?"

Your lips twisted into a frown, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill as your voice grew quieter, your frame shrinking in the shadows casted by the small lantern hung up on of the posts. "I just........I want to go home. I.....I-want to go home."

"There's no going back now girl.” Ser Bjorn spoke firmly, looking pathetically over your trembling form before ushering you to be quiet as he pulled something out from behind him. "Here, take this."

You glanced down at the item in his hand; a small dagger. You had recognized the simple yet intricate blade at his hip when you first saw him approach your brother at the hall. “But it’s yours.”

"Take it girl." Ser Bjorn exasperated at your hesitation, gritting his teeth as he did so.

You gave the man a quick look, observing his serious expression with distrust before taking the dagger from his hands, pulling the blade out from its sheath to stare at the shine of the sharp metal. "Why?"

"For when the time comes that you may need it. But use it you will not."

"What do you mean? How am I not allowed to use it?"

"The potion you will use daily when necessary."

"But that doesn’t make any sense-“

"You will do as I have told you. Does the girl understand?"

"But-"

"Does the girl understand? I will not be saying it again." Ser Bjorn glowered down at you, his obsidian eyes boring into your own.

".........Yes." You muttered out with a tight jaw, wondering whyever he would bother to help you despite being of alliance to Lord Pythias and being the cold hearted man that he was.

"Good. Now rest. The journey ahead of us is long." The Braavosi turned his back to you, returning to his speechless state. Not a single ounce of emotion had passed through him during the whole conversation, not even a shrivel of empathy, just as when you had first met him.

Being the stubborn young girl you were, you let out a huff of air, sticking the small dagger into the belt of your dress before finding a spot in the corner where there sat sacks of flour stacked upon the floor. Laying yourself on top of the rough burlap sacks, you brought your knees up to your chest with your back facing Ser Bjorn as he stood watch. You clutched your cloak closer to your small frame to protect yourself against the coldness of the night air that you were not used to, shivering as you shut your eyes and finally released all the anger and all the despair that you had locked within to keep yourself from appearing weak. Your face became wet from your emotions as you curled into a fetal position, using the fabric of your cloak to muffle out your cries as you let the tears of your worries drown you to a deep slumber.

The sun rested high amongst the pale blue sky, nestled between the porcelain clouds like a drop of gold in a field of cotton. It’s rays shined down on the city in streaks of gold as you sat on the grass that covered one of the hills overlooking the sea, watching the ships depart and arrive at the wooden docks of King's Landing. The cool breeze blew against you, blowing back the loose strands of your hair that framed your face from your elaborate braids as you listened to the bells that rang out through the city. You could almost taste the salt of the ocean air upon your tongue from where you sat in the distance, your small leather bound sketchbook spread open on your lap and your stick of sanguine chalk held between your fingers as you tapped the end of the chalk lightly against the parchment.

In the distance, there came the sound of something above you, a flutter of wings about the air and an echo of a screech. And as you looked to the sky, squinting against the sun as you did so, you saw your two dragons drawing near, the large span of their wings blanketing the area in shadow as they soared down to the ocean. You smiled at the sight, watching the siblings play with each other while others stopped to stare and point at the large beasts that were once thought to be extinct. For once, you felt at peace. And yet, the past always seemed to find its way to haunt you. You had been much too preoccupied, your mind focused on your drawings as you failed to notice someone approaching your spot, the heels of their boots crushing the grass beneath them.

"I thought I might find you here."

“Dany.” You turned at the all too familiar voice, seeing your sister with the wind blowing through her silvery blonde locks, a warm smile on her face.

“I was beginning to worry. I had not seen you since dinner last night.”

"I'm sorry.” You set your pencil down, turning to face her as she stood next to you. “I didn’t mean to trouble you. I just....haven't been feeling well. Thought I might come out here and relax my mind for a bit.”

"As long as you're caring for yourself." Daenerys placed her hand on your shoulder as she watched the ships and your two dragons with you before glancing down at your sketches of the wooden vessels and your other sketches of the dragons, admiring the life like details you had put into them. “You’ve gotten better. I remember when you used to draw on the walls until you found your hands on some parchment.”

“Well, I was a little girl then.” You chuckled.

“And look at you now, grown into a beautiful young woman with skills that I could never dream of or accomplish.” Dany looked down at you as she softly stroked your head, running her fingers through the thin silver streak of hair similar to her own that had formed at your front strands, a stark contrast to the rest of your hair. You never really did explain how you got it, that silver streak of hair, except that it just appeared one fateful day.

Her heart swelled at seeing you now, seeing how much you had grown in both spirit and age since she last saw you. And though the two of you were only a year apart, she would do anything to protect you like the older sister she was. You used to be such a soft spoken little girl, one who had always bent to the will of others, one who was constantly pushed around by those stronger than herself. And here you were now, a woman who bent herself to no man and wielded her own sword and survived so much to find your way back to her. A woman who had even led her own battles while fighting her enemies at the forefront. And there was nothing that made Dany happier than to have such a strong and spirited woman as her sister.

"Gods. It's been so long hasn't it." You muttered out in a soft breath, thinking back to the day where you were sold off like cattle by your own brother and torn away from your only sister. "It feels as if it were just a year ago when I set foot on that ship and was shipped off to the north."

"Hm. It has been a long time indeed. But you're here now, with me, and that is all that matters." Daenerys caressed your head lovingly before placing a kiss at the top of your head. "Come, supper should be ready soon."

Wiping off the chalk from your fingers, you closed up your sketchbook with a snap, wrapping the suede string around the leather binding with your chalk tied to it before slipping it into the pocket of your coat dress. Interlocking your arm with your sister, the two of you walked through the small field to return to the castle, making your way to the dining hall.

"The redecorations are coming along nicely." Daenerys spoke up from beside you.

"Thank the gods." You sighed. "Anything but the ghastly décor that Cersei had left. What she had done with the castle walls is blasphemy. The place needs more color, more plants, more…..life. I want to feel at home, not like I’m stuck in prison.”

"Well I’m sure you’ll find the newer decorations to your liking." Daenerys chuckled at the passion behind your eye for the arts.

"I trust your judgement sister." You patted her forearm before facing the path ahead of you, focusing on the stone steps that led up to the castle. And as you lifted your gaze, an enormous smile appeared on your lips as you saw a familiar head of dark curls up ahead that belonged to none other than your dear friend. "Jon!" You left your sister's side to quicken your pace and engulf him in a hug.

"Oof.” Jon grunted against the impact as you almost knocked him over before pulling away to beam down at you. “It's good to see you too y/n."

You twisted your lips in a teasing scowl, punching the man playfully in the chest as if the two of you were children. “Back already I suppose. Where did you leave off to in such a hurry huh? You didn’t even wish me a farewell.”

“Well I had to see my cousins, make sure everything is settled in the North.”

“How are Sansa and Arya and Bran? Are they well?”

“They’re well. They do miss you.”

“You did tell them that I miss them as well, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Jon smirked, “it’d be a crime not to.”

“Alright you two.” Dany smiled at the sight as she stepped up between you both, placing her hands on both your backs. “Let’s not keep everyone waiting.”

By the time that you had finished your supper and remained on your glasses of wine, mostly everyone had left, leaving just you, Jon, Dany, and a very drunken Tyrion who volunteered to share his delightful stories.

“And I said to him…..” Tyrion slurred out, squinting his eyes and pointing his finger in front of him as if the man he had confronted earlier at the market was standing right before him. “……..and I said to him….”

“Well what did you say to him Lord Tyrion?” You quirked a brow at the man on the opposite side of the dining table as you raised your goblet of wine to your lips, sending an amused look to your sister who sat on the end of the table next to you.

“I’m getting there.” Tyrion wagged his finger at you before returning to his story. “So I said to him……….” He stopped, confused for a brief moment as he turned to you. “Wait, what DID I say to him?”

“I’m afraid I do not know. And I’m afraid we STILL will not know until you tell us Lord Tyrion. So please, enlighten us.” You answered with a smile, eliciting a soft laugh from Jon who sat on the other side of Daenerys, across from you.

“Now don’t get smart with me.” Tyrion rolled his eyes in a teasing manner. “Ahah. I remember now. So…….the man comes up to me…………insults me to my face about my height…….calls me an imp. And I said to him…………listen here you half wit………I may be small………………..but your cock is merely an arms length from my fist, remember that.”

“Oh gods.” You rolled your eyes, throwing your head back as soft laughter broke out at the table before Tyrion went on with another story.

Your thoughts drifted off as you sat at your seat, your face illuminated by the candles on the table as well as the ones of the chandelier above. Your fingers traced along the rim of your silver goblet, your eyes glued to the wine resting motionless inside like a mirror of crimson, it’s deep red liquid bringing you back to your past.

Days had turned to months when you had arrived to the North at Lord Pythias’s manor, a land that was completely foreign to you, a land in which you knew no one except for Ser Bjorn, though the man never spoke much. Each day you spent inside the odious stone walls of the manor was as cold as the next, and each night the same as the last; a glass of ale and a drop of the potion from the vial, and an unconscious Lord Pythias that allowed you to protect yourself from his hands and his immoral intentions.

In the time that you had spent away from the old man, away from everyone, you would stay confined in your room. And at night, when the moon was high and when everyone was asleep, you would sneak off to meet with the Braavosi, who had offered to train you in the art of the dagger. And each weary night you spent training and sparring with him, each night leaving you scraped and bruised, you became more skilled than the last, when at last you were the one to hold the blade to his throat. And in that moment, with you standing over him, the sharp end of your blade pressed to his neck, you could have sworn you saw a hint of a smile on the face of the man who remained ever grim.

But one night; one cold, moonless and windy night had changed everything. You were in your room, dressed in your nightgown while you braided your hair, preparing yourself for bed until you heard someone slam open your door and barge into your room. Startled, you looked through the reflection of your mirror, thinking it was one of the maids when your heart dropped at the sight of Lord Pythias stumbling into the room, more drunk than ever. You did not know what had happened. You gave him the potion, you were sure of it. You could not understand why the effects of the potion did not take place that night. Perhaps he had built an immunity to it, you would never know. But everything that happened next was a blur, like a smear of chalk across one your sketches.

You remembered him pinning you face down on your bed, crushing you beneath his weight as he held your wrists together behind you. You remembered screaming, your face and the mattress soaked with your tears. You remembered his hand pushing up the skirt of your nightgown as he struggled with the button of his pants. And then, as of some strange occurrence, something stopped him before he could do anything. You could not figure out what had spawned within you. Next thing you knew, you were on top of him with his throat slit, the dagger that Ser Bjorn had given you held tightly in your hands, your white nightgown and your skin covered in his blood, soaking the mattress beneath you as you stabbed him, over and over.

What came over you, you had no knowledge of, nor could you remember. You tried to tell yourself that it was purely fear, that you were just a scared young girl of age 12 who protected herself against her attacker. But your reflection in the mirror; your face painted red and the faintest flicker of an ancient flame behind your eyes told you different. And yet, the strangest part of it all, even more so than your very reflection that haunted you to this day, was that the dagger was nowhere within reach, tucked away in the drawer of your desk.

“Lady y/n………..lady y/n.” You heard Tyrion call out to you, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Hm?” You blinked, turning your attention back to the present.

Daenerys had noticed how you had zoned off just a moment ago, recognizing that familiar scrunch towards the middle of your brows and the way your eyes glazed over as you became lost within your own thoughts. You felt her place her hand on top of yours, her fingers sending you a reassuring squeeze, to which you returned a smile that meant you were alright.

“You didn’t…….hiccup….listen to a word I said did you.” Tyrion waved his finger at you, a sly smirk on his lips as he let out another hiccup. “Or is it……………Princess Y/n now, considering…………your sister is……….officially queen.”

“I am whatever you wish to call me, Lord Tyrion.”

“Don’t say that.” Tyrion gave you a stern yet puzzled look. “That……..just gives others an excuse…….to call you nasty names………..something you might not like. So princess……or……..your royal highness it is!”

“I think you’ve had enough wine for tonight, Lord Tyrion.” You chuckled.

“That!” Tyrion started, “…………is entirely true, I will not deny. After all………what kind of a man would I be…………….to deny myself being drunk. To deny something as obvious as being drunk………..is to deny other things.”

“Always the wise man with the wise words.” You gave Tyrion a soft smile.

“That………is also true.” Tyrion started to get off his seat. “Now, if you would as to be so kind………..Princess y/n…..to walk me back to my chambers before I make a further fool of myself.”

“Of course Lord Tyrion.” You smiled, sending Jon and Dany a look that meant you won’t be long as you walked Tyrion back to his chambers, making sure he did not fall over in the process.

By the time that you returned to the dining hall, a slight sway in your step as you held your hand up to stifle a yawn, you walked in on Jon and Daenerys speaking to each other in hushed tones, the two of them halting their conversation upon seeing you enter, their eyes following you as you returned to your seat.

“You two weren’t gossiping about me were you? If so, I’m afraid I don’t have my tea with me.” You teased, a smirk playing on your lips as you sat back down on your chair. You quirked a brow in curiosity as you saw them give each other a look that usually meant that something serious had to be discussed, a look that you had seen often many times before. “I know that look. What is it?”

“There is something you ought to know.” Daenerys spoke up as she looked at you, her manicured fingers lightly drumming against the table as she was unsure of how you were going to react to the news. “Something we have not told you.”

“Oh?” You eyed their expressions carefully as you straightened up in your seat, taking another sip of your wine. “What is the matter?”

“Jon and I……”

“You’re in love, I know.” You interrupted with a smile, holding your hand up before setting it down on the smoothness of the wooden table. “There’s no need to tell me. I’d have to be either blind as a bat or a complete fool to not notice the…longing looks the two of you share. Not to mention the amount of times I have caught the two of you sneaking kisses-“

“Y/n….” Jon cleared his throat, embarrassed with the fact that you had caught the two of them together, not once, but multiple times.

“Jon is a Targaryen.” Daenerys finally spoke.

You froze, staring at Daenerys as if she had uttered the most absurd thing known to man.

Daenerys and Jon watched your face with the utmost observation, their skin turning cold from your lack of response as they waited for something, anything from you, but all they were met with was silence on your end. You had only sat still, unmoving like one of the statues in the garden.

“……….what?” You spoke out in a whisper, your voice almost inaudible as you let out a laugh of uneasiness. “Is this some sort of a jest?” Your eyes traced over the features of your sister, trying to figure out if she was playing some form of a twisted trick or whether either of you had too much wine even though you only drank a cup, but the seriousness of her countenance spoke enough.

“Y/n.” Jon sighed, knowing not only how much it must come as a shock to you, but also how you might feel utterly betrayed by them keeping such a thing from you. “My father was Rhaegar Targaryen, and my mother Lyanna Stark. My real name is Aegon Targaryen.”

Aegon Targaryen. Jon was the son of your eldest half-brother Rhaegar. So the stories you heard were false.

“It…..it can’t be.” You shook your head in disbelief, finding it hard to fathom that Jon, the man whom you have known for years, your close friend, had been your kin this whole time.

“Y/n you know I would never lie to you.” Jon looked at you, knowing how much it pained you to hear of this now as you stared back into his dark eyes.

You let out a laugh, a smile appearing on your face as you were not quite sure how to respond or even feel about the matter. You were shocked more than anything. “You’re……..you’re a Targaryen.”

“I am.” Jon blinked, slightly confused at the brightness of your face. He could not quite figure out how you felt about what had been revealed. Were you…..were you delighted with the news?

“Well that’s good yes? That means Dany and I aren’t the last two remaining Targaryens. When did you find out?”

“During our time in Winterfell.” Daenerys answered, her gaze ever so trained on your face as she watched how your eyes darted in thought.

“Winterfell? You’re……you’re telling me this now?” You let out a scoff as you stood up from your seat, pushing your chair back with a loud skid against the floor as you moved to pace about the room. “Why did you not tell me then?”

“We meant to tell you earlier.” Jon frowned.

“We were afraid of how you would have handled the news.” Daenerys watched you from her seat, her violet eyes following you as you still paced slowly about.

You started to play with the ring on your finger, the pads of your fingertips running over the grooves of the silver band and the gemstone that sat in the center. Your mind was reeling as you tried to piece everything together, from the stories you were told and how many of them turned out to be lies. It all started to make sense, Jon being a Targaryen. Laughing in disbelief, you turned to face them once more, but your face dropped as the sudden realization came to you. That meant Jon was your half-nephew, and Daenerys, oh gods, that made Daenerys his aunt. “Seven hells.” You breathed out, unable to prevent your lips from twisting into revulsion as you pointed between the two of them, knowing fully well that they slept together. “You two……gods……but the two of you……oh I think I’m going to be sick.” You held a hand to your stomach, pressing your other hand to the table to keep you up as you bent over it.

“Come now y/n.” Daenerys scoffed at your reaction. “I admit it came as a shock to me as well. But it’s not like it is anything foreign within our family. After all, our own father married his sister, and our grandparents and ancestors before them. Even I thought I was to marry Viserys when I was a little girl.”

“But Dany, this is wrong.” You exasperated before turning Jon. “Jon, are you not a bit……I don’t know. Does this not disgust you?”

“Y/n, I understand how you might feel about this.” Jon tried to calm you down.

“You’re her nephew! Dany, you’re his aunt! You do understand that don’t you?”

“Now don’t try to act like you’re better.” Dany stood up from her seat, offended by the way you were treating her as if she were suddenly beneath you and that the whole issue was completely out of your own bloodline despite being a Targaryen yourself. “You yourself were married to a Sta-“

“Don’t!” You snapped with a flicker of your eyes, your hands shaking at the mention of your late husband as a frown made its way on your lips. “You really should not have said that.”

“Y/n-“ Jon stood up from his seat, his heart sinking from the reminder of your husband’s death as well as the expression that now settled in the features of your face.

“I…I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t believe you would mention him Dany.” You stood up, your heart tearing apart though you held your chin high, fighting against the tears that threatened to spill.

“Y/n please, let’s sit down and talk about this.” Jon gestured.

“No.” You spoke firmly, your jaw tight. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go clear my head.” Avoiding to meet their eyes and ignoring their calls, you stormed out of the dining hall, leaving a worried Jon and a rather displeased Daenerys.

“Don’t worry.” Jon put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Let her think this through on her own. I’ll go check on her.”

It was not long till you barged into the confines of your chambers, slamming the door behind you with clenched fists as you pressed your back against the wooden door. Your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath that felt like daggers in your lungs as you plopped down at the edge of your bed, burying your head into your hands as tears streamed down your cheeks. Your frame trembled as you became trapped within a whirlwind of emotions that tore themselves at you; from the shock of learning Jon’s true lineage, to the affair between your sister and him, to your sister bringing up your late husband’s name, to being confused about your own marriage. The last two had hit you the hardest, striking a blow against you, especially when it was something you tried so desperately to forget. Learning of Jon’s connection to you made you question the relationship you had with the man you loved and married. And the more you pondered on it, the more you did not know whether to feel horrified or heartbroken.

You wanted to leave, to pack your things and set sail far away from Westeros and disappear from the land that only reminded you of all that you had lost. Your soul yearned to start a new life for yourself, to gather your dragons and live a life free of pain and torment and war. And yet, a small part of you, the Targaryen blood that ran through your veins, desired to gather your army and lay claim to land that has yet to be claimed, to build your own kingdom. You had even begun to pack some of your belongings, your luggage tucked away under your bed to keep out prying eyes that might turn a single utterance of a word into a string of gossip. But more importantly, you were unsure of how to go about telling your sister and Jon that you wanted to go away, to travel to foreign land that one has not seen, without the slightest idea of your return. Nor did you have the heart to tell them.

There was a soft knock upon your wooden door, drawing you out of your thoughts, and as you turned towards it, you saw Jon enter, his face filled with concern at your weeping figure.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be left alone.” You turned your head away to hide your glistened face.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” You huffed out, wiping away at your tears as you straightened yourself up.

“Well you don’t look fine.” Jon sighed as he took a seat next to you, your bed sinking slightly from the weight. “Look, y/n, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Hmph. Who would have thought you were my nephew this whole time even though you’re older than me.”

“No one. Not even me I suppose.” Jon chuckled softly, his eyes cast downwards. “I’m sorry that Dany brought him up. I’m sure she didn’t mean to.” He apologized, knowing how much it pained you to be reminded of him, especially with how you still blamed yourself to this day for his death.

“I just……..I miss him so much.” You sniffled, not being able to stop the tears that now flowed freely no matter the times you wiped them away. “Gods, I can’t even say his name nor think of him without breaking into tears.”

“You loved him very much, you still do.” Jon smiled, seeing that you still wore the ring that was given to you at your wedding, your actual wedding. “And he loved you. I’m sure if he was here right now he’d tell you just that. He would tell you how proud he is of you, to see how far you’ve come and how strong you were. And being the person that he was, he would brag to the world of it, of how his wife led an entire army and helped win back the throne in her family’s name.”

A small smile formed on your lips at Jon’s words, a smile that held more sorrow than gaiety as you imagined he would have said the same exact thing. “I just…..I wished there was something I could have done, then maybe he would still be here and maybe……” you reflected to the night of your husband’s death as your hand moved over to place itself at your stomach, your fingers grazing over the groove of the scar hidden underneath the fabric of your dress.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Jon comforted you, placing an arm around you as you leaned into him, wetting the fabric of his coat with your tears as you cried onto his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault.”

As the two of you sat there for a moment, mourning the memory of the man who was not only your husband but also someone that Jon himself had shared a strong bond with, your thoughts began to once again drift off to the past, of the day that you first met the man you would grow to love.

The night of Lord Pythias’s death, Ser Bjorn had arrived swiftly to your chamber with his sword in hand upon hearing the sound of your screams as he feared for the worst, but what he came across was not quite what he had expected. His face remained still as he unraveled the scene before him; Lord Pythias lying dead on your bed with his throat slit as multiple stab wounds lined his chest. And then there was you, huddled up in the corner covered in his blood, your face expressionless and the dagger that the Braavosi had given you held tightly in your hands, and the hint of a flickering of a flame behind your hollow eyes. And in that moment, that is when Ser Bjorn knew.

You looked up from your dazed state, seeing Ser Bjorn stand over you with your cloak and a bundle of clothes in his hands as you suddenly remembered the dead lord on your bed, thinking you were going to get executed for your crime. “Ser Bjorn. I’m sorry I-“

“Quiet.” He threw the clothes down at you, keeping an eye on your door in case any of Lord Pythias’s men decided to show as he handed you a rag. “Wipe your face and put these on. Quick.”

“But these are boys clothes.” You looked at the dark muddy colored wool tunic and pants with skepticism, not really understanding what the Braavosi had in mind.

“Do as I say GIRL.”

You wanted to ask the Braavosi what he was getting at, to understand just exactly what plan had formed in his mind as he carefully went over to your door to scan the hallways. But you decided against it, thinking twice about asking any questions at a time as threatening as this.

With your brows etched in dread, you threw the clothes on top of your nightgown, lacing up your boots before tying the leather belt around your waist and sticking your dagger in it, making sure to wipe your face with the rag to the best of your abilities while Ser Bjorn kept a lookout.

“Hold still.” The man ordered as he turned you around, using a knife to cut off your braid as your felt your hair fell down to your face.

With widened eyes, you reached a hand back, feeling your hair now end at your jaw instead of your lower back before glancing at your reflection. It was now that you realized what Ser Bjorn had in mind, a plan to disguise you as a boy in order for you to escape with your life.

“Now listen carefully girl.” The man turned you around, placing his hands on your shoulders as he did so. “You’re going to head farther up North until you reach the walls of Winterfell. There you will meet a man of the name Ned Stark. Tell him I sent you. Stay on your feet and DO NOT turn back.”

“But what about you?” You frowned, tears of fear forming in your eyes as you stared into the dark eyes of the man before you, the eyes of a man whom you might not see again.

“Do not worry about me. I taught you to use the dagger, now use it. Remember girl, valar morghulis.”

“Valar dohaeris.”

Ser Bjorn gave you a push towards the door. “Now go.”

“But-“ Your lip quivered as you became overwhelmed with fright, the fear of once again being left out on your own settling within your bones like a disease.

“Go!”

Giving Ser Bjorn one last look, you ran out from your chambers, making sure to lower your head as you hurried through the hallways and out the building, leaving the warmth of the fireplace that was in your room and being faced with the cold wintery air of the North. You did not know how far or how long you ran, but all you could remember was the ache in your legs, the pounding of your heart and the adrenaline that rushed through your veins as you kept moving, running through the woods in the middle of the darkness that belonged to the night, the branches of the trees slicing across your face until you no longer set foot in Lord Pythias’s land.

Night had turned to day, and all the energy and strength that flowed through you when you left the manor had now diminished, leaving you exhausted and begging for rest. But no matter how much your eyes drooped, or how much you wanted to collapse on the dirt beneath you, you remembered Ser Bjorn’s words. ‘Stay on your feet and do not turn back’. And so you did as much as your feet allowed you to. You began to worry on what could have happened to the Braavosi since you left, praying to the gods to keep him safe and that you would soon meet again. And as you trudged along, your boots and the hem of your cloak caked in mud, your face showing signs of weariness and your lips chapped from the lack of water, you heard the snap of a twig behind you. Turning around, you saw three older men approach you from the distance, their appearance as unkept as the dirt beneath their feet.

“Well what have we here?” One of them smiled, flashing his poorly kept teeth. “What are ye doing out here boy?”

“Ya think he’s one of the Stark boys?” The other man nodded in your direction as he gave you a once over.

Stark boys? That must have meant that Winterfell was near.

“Are you a Stark, boy?” The first one spoke, eyeing the clothes on your back before becoming irritated from your lack of a response. “You deaf, boy? Or just mute”

“He don’t look like a Stark.” The third of the group shook his head, his eyes roaming your person as to search for any signs of coin or wealth. “You got anything for us boy?”

“Stay back!” You pulled out your dagger from its sheath, barely able to hold the blade out in front of you from the lack of food and water as your heart beat rapidly in your chest while the men only laughed.

“Now what exactly are you going to do with that, huh little boy?” The first one laughed as he eyed your dagger. “Hey, that’s a pretty knife. I think I’ll have to get me it.”

The man who seemed to be the boss lunged at you, his hands held out in front of him as he tried to grab you. Remembering Ser Bjorn’s training, you stepped off to the side, slicing the man across the face as you did so.

“Agh!” The man grunted in pain, pressing his hand to his face before bringing his hand down to see his blood coating his palm. “Why you bastard cunt! You cut me! Get him!” He shouted at his two men.

You nearly tripped over yourself as you faced the other direction you were originally headed, running as fast as you were able from the three goons that chased you down. Your legs felt as if they had turned to wood as you sprinted once more through the thicket of trees, your each step seeming to get more heavy than the last as you kicked up the dark mud from beneath you, your clothes only starting to weigh you down from the mud that clung to it. And as you darted through the trees, fearing that you lost your way and that there was no escape to this endless maze of your fate, the sharp branches grabbed ahold of your cloak, tearing it from your body as you ducked beneath the trunk of a tree that had fallen over.

Turning your head back, you saw that the men were starting to gain on you, their faces furious from your attack on their leader. You tried to push yourself to quicken your pace, to keep going until you reached the land that Ser Bjorn informed you of in hopes of your own survival, but to no avail. No matter how hard you tried to outrun them, you were at a disadvantage. They not only outnumbered you, but they also overpowered you in both size and strength. You turned your head back to the front, facing the path in front of you until you felt something hook around your ankle. There was a harsh pull at your leg as you attempted another step, and as you looked down in horror, you saw that your foot had gotten caught between one the roots that belonged to the trees. With a gasp of fright, you fell down into the mud, letting out a scream from the sharp pain that suddenly spread from your foot and up your leg.

“There you are! You little bastard!” The leader hovered over you as you fought against him, grabbing you by the collar before bringing his fist down to connect with your jaw.

A snarl ripped out of your throat as you bared your teeth, the taste of copper filling your mouth as you ignored the throbbing pain in your face and your ankle once your fight response kicked in. Your tried to struggle against the man’s grip, scratching at his face in an attempt to gauge out his eyes like Ser Bjorn had taught you, but the man only swatted your hands away, hissing at the scratches you left behind.

“Agh! You fucking cunt!” The man barked, picking up your dagger that had slipped out of your hand from your fall, pinning you down against the mud as he held the blade up to your face. “You’ll pay for what you did. I’m gonna carve your face up like ye did mine.”

Your eyes widened against the sharp blade of the dagger, the terror in your eyes evident in your own reflection held in the shiny metal. The other two men surrounded you, watching you being held down with amusement in their smiles. Beads of sweat formed at your forehead, contradicting the iciness of your blood as you twisted beneath the weight of the man above you, watching the point of the dagger come closer, and closer. You tried to scream for help, praying that your calls would soon be answered and that someone might come to your aid. But there came no one. And it was in that moment, that you thought you might breathe your last.

A blood curdling scream tore itself from your throat as the man pressed the sharp point of the dagger into the skin of your forehead, dragging the blade over your brow and down your cheek, making sure to take his time as to provide you with as much torment possible. You squeezed your eyes shut against the excruciating paint that overtook your face, nearly passing out from the sensation. It was as if your body was close to shutting down. Your vision became blurry as a numbness circulated through every inch of you, your throat raw from your screams as you could no longer cry for help. You believed that this was it, that death had finally appeared himself before you as you looked up to see the man hold your dagger up above him, a rage filled grin on his face as he was ready to end your life.

“Please.” You rasped out in a desperate attempt, uncertain if you were speaking to the man who was about to kill you or the gods above. And then, as if your prayers were answered, you heard shouts in the distance, their voices muffled out by the fatigue that began to overcome you as you watched an arrow pierce itself through the goon’s shoulder. The man let out a yelp, dropping your dagger near your head as he fell off you. Time seemed to slow around you as you laid there, unmoving, your eyes glossed over as you listened to the clashing of swords. You tried to keep yourself awake, afraid that you would be no more the moment you shut your eyes until a figure hovered over you.

“H-help.” You breathed out, coughing from your own blood as the lids of your eyes grew heavier by the second as you slowly lost the will to fight.

“It’s alright.” You heard them speak. A boy from the sound of it as he called out for his father before turning back to you, a glimpse of soft brown curls and a pair of blue eyes that searched your face. “You’re safe.”

“H-help.” You spoke once more, the world around you fading into black as your ears picked up on his father calling out his name.

Robb.

Tag List: @manyfanfiction @itzzzzcookie @shawty-writes-a-little @s-r-clowns @doaspeggy-says @james-bucky-barnes-bitch @uzuiphobic @storminacloud @strayrockette @delightfulwizardwizard @siriusement @lazyotakujen @samm-2 @s-k-m-97 @themaze13 @tseluyatvoikorni @inesttaa @stylesann @lillyprada @pineapplebooboo @imaginesbenbarnesblog @superwolflock29 @lokis-queen01 @randomstory56 @xbitchxk @no-majs @1-fuzzy-squirrels @mrsbarnes314 @newagehorror @sharabay @mygardenmentality @pleasantfreaksharkcreator @moonlightstuffs @childhoodblaaaah @frostycornflakes70 @radcloudenthusiast @ntlmundy @elmothedino5 @bruxa0007 @h0n3y-bee @mizelophsun11 @lady-kirigan

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myshadowsandmybones · 1 year

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I am going to lose it if the writers of the series are going to make the Darkling lose his mind for no reason aka last season Daenerys. He's the villan. Everybody gets that. I see no need in adding even more abusive characteristics to him or to bastardise the original needlessly. The book version does more than enough.

Part of the Darkling's charm is that despite him being the "bad guy", he is still likeable and at rare times relatable. Which, in my opinion, serves to prove the point of him being a manipulative predator even more than any outward expression of the fact (physical violence for example).

#general kirigan #the darkling #alina x darkling #zoya nazyalensky #shadow and bone #alina starkov #mal oretsev #archie renaux #ben barnes #aleksander morozova #jessie mei li #netflix #netflix shadow and bone #darkling x oc #alina starkov x the darkling #darkling shadow and bone #sankta alina

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teaenthusiast65 · 1 year

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Shadow and Bone Fanfic Idea

Alright Fam, hear me out.

The Darkling falling in love with a living amplifier...?

Or a fic about Tolya and an original character...?

Or Both.

Let me know via notes/comments/DM

--Tea

P.S Hell, even a Lewis Tan or Ben Barnes fic really!

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone au #fanfiction #fanfic #tolya and tamar #tolya #tolya yul bataar #the darkling #general kirigan #tolya x oc #darkling x oc #ben barnes #lewis tan #real person fanfiction #tolya fanfic #darklina fanfic #lewis tan fanfiction #ben barnes fanfiction

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asirensrage · 2 years

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Consequences

Title: Consequences Fandom: Shadow and Bone Rating: M Pairing: Slight Aleksander x unnamed OC Word count: 3420 Warnings: dark!fic, grey!oc, threats, coersion, being offered as a sacrifice, swearing, use of a knife, attempted murder, actual murder (or would it be manslaughter?), blood consumption, violence, demon!aleksander

Summary: Based on the scary story prompts from @darkpromptsyouneveraskedfor. Prompts include: 15) "I made my sacrifice, now it's your turn." and 8) You're hired to house sit one of the heritage homes in town but realize you're not alone.

Horror prompts masterlist

Notes: This is a dark fic. Heed the warnings. There is attempted murder, friendships breaking and more. Shout out to @vixenofcourse who helped me with this. Enjoy!

“You just have to come, water the plants, hang out. It’s easy money.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?”

“Because I have plans.”

“Whose house is it again?”

“No one’s. It’s empty right now. The sellers are locked in some battle with buyers who want the rights to update it.”

“But isn’t it a…”

“Yeah. The fancy plaque on the wall says they’re not allowed to change a thing. That’s not stopping them from trying though. Just do me this favour. Please.”

“Ugh, fine. But you owe me.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

She hangs up the phone and sighs. It’s not the best gig but at least it’ll be easy. All she needs to do is pick up the keys and check the place out. With her luck, it’ll be haunted but no one said she had to stay the night.

🏠

Her friend isn’t around when she goes to pick up the keys but it’s fine. There’s a coded safety case that realtors use and she knows the combination. The house is eerie. She hasn’t even gone inside yet but the exterior is all Victorian trim and dark colours. It looks like it belongs to the Addams Family. The plaque next to the door declares it a historical site. She stares at it for a moment. It’s the cause of all her problems, at least right now.

She gets the key from the box. It looks new, as though the locks have been changed but the door still looks like it belongs in the 1800s. She’s not entirely sure it’ll fit, and if she has to call her friend because someone left the wrong key, she’s going to be pissed. It’ll just add to this waste of time.

The key fits.

The door creaks open. An ominous warning to the dark that lies ahead. It’s a little impressive actually. They must have blocked the windows. That was creepy. Now that she thought about it, who were the original owners? Or the current ones. Jen never said.

She walks in. She had to water plants? In this place? The only thing that was going to grow here was mold. The door closes behind her. She turns as she’s shrouded in darkness. She left it open so she could find a light.

“Must have been the wind,” she says. “Closing…a very heavy door…” She rolls her eyes. It was just her luck acting up again. She never had much of it. It was the same reason she couldn’t hold down a proper job. Things just happened. Weird shit seemed to follow her and everything got blamed on her.

She digs out her phone and turns on the flashlight. That made it creepier. There was something about not being able to see everything around you. It made her feel like there was something behind her. She shudders.

“Alright, let’s just look around, turn on some lights and get out of here.”

Finding a light switch was harder than she expected. Original switches from the last time the house was renovated, before it was considered historical, look nothing like the ones she’s used to.

She finally finds the toggle switch but it doesn’t work. At least, nothing happens. “Of course, the place can’t even work…” She turns, looking around for another, when something touches the back of her neck. She jumps.

A quick turn, flashing the light around her, reveals…nothing. Despite the fact that something just touched her, she knows something touched her, nothing is there. She’s still in the silent, creepy house.

“And we’re done,” she says out loud. She’ll stand watch outside if she has to, but she’s leaving.

Wind blows past her as she leaves the room. She stops. Where did that come from?

“Nope. No, no, no,” she tells the house before heading to the door.

“Leaving so soon?”

She jumps again, turning towards the voice. She pushes her back against the wall, right by the door. “Who’s there?”

“We haven’t even introduced ourselves yet.”

She moves the flashlight around until she finds him. The man is standing on the stairs facing her. She can’t make out his features very well, it’s too dark and he’s too far away. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she says, sounding far more confident than she feels. Cold creeps up her spine.

“Trust me, we’re exactly where we are both meant to be.”

She grabs the door handle, keeping herself facing the man. She’s not about to turn her back on a stranger, not in this creepy house and not when she was told no one is supposed to be here. “I’m going to go,” she says. “You look like you have this in hand.”

“I regret that you will not.” He seemed to disappear from her view and she turns, trying to find him again.

His face appears in front of hers. She jolts back, hitting the door hard. “I made my sacrifice,” he says softly. “Now it’s your turn.”

He leans forward, mouth parting and displaying rows of teeth that glisten in the little light there is. His eyes are black.

“I don’t think so!” She shoves him back. To her surprise, he actually stumbles. He looks at her confused. “I’m no one’s sacrifice!”

He stares at her for a moment, head tilted. “No,” he says softly. “I don’t believe you are.”

Her heart pounds in her chest, feeling as though it is either about to burst or stop completely. She can see him clearly now. He looks human but there is something off about him. It’s not only the black eyes and too many teeth. There is something that sets everything in her on edge.

He moves faster than she sees, gripping her jaw. It’s gentle and yet inescapable. Even trying to pull back slightly fails. He turns her face, examining her from all sides. “What a curious thing you are,” he says quietly. “She must not have known.”

“Who?” She can’t help but ask.

“The one who sent you here. She requested a boon, but they are not to be given without sacrifice. I would have escaped this prison with your death but now…”

“Hold on, my death?” She glares at him. “You’re telling me Jen sent me here purposefully to die?”

“Are you surprised?”

“You think?!” She scowls at the man in the dark. “Let me out. I’m going to kill her.”

His eyes seem to gleam in the light. “Are you?” He reaches out again, touching her face softly. There are claws on his fingertips. “Perhaps we could make a deal?”

“I’m not into deals,” she tells him, unimpressed at what he’s already suggesting.

He grins. It’s wide enough that it looks as though it will swallow his face. “Nothing like you’re thinking. Call her here. I was promised a human soul, not one like you. Bring her and I’ll tell you the truth of what you are.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” She asks, staring at him. “You want me to call her, get her to come over here so what? You can kill us both?”

“Do you know what the boon she asked for was?”

“Obviously not.”

He smirks, amused by her sharp edges. “She sold your life away for wealth and the love of a man named John.”

“Oh for the–” She cuts herself off. “John?! Really? That asshole?” She can’t help herself. “She’s been obsessed with him for years and he knows it! He’s played her like a fiddle. Calling her when he wants sex and dropping her as soon as she presses for more and she still goes back for more!”

“Humans are frivolous with their affections,” he says mildly.

“She’d kill me to win that asshole? Fuck it.” She lifts her phone, shutting off the flashlight that was eating at her battery and succumbing to the dark and the thing in it. She’s pissed off now. It was one thing to set her up, to send her on this stupid task and try to sacrifice her. Hell, the economy was hard, she could understand it really, but for John? Hell no.

Her friend is in her recently contacted section. It goes to voicemail. Of course, it does. If she was setting her up to die, she probably didn’t want to hear her screaming. Well, two could play this game.

“Hey Jen,” she says in as light-hearted a tone as she can maintain once the voicemail beeps. “I’m trying the code you gave me but it’s not working. I can’t get into the house. Are you sure it’s the right one?”

She hangs up. “And now we wait.”

“Clever,” he praises.

She ignores it and turns her flashlight back on. She isn’t ready to wait in the dark with…whatever it is.

It takes about a minute for her so-called friend to call her back. Maybe it’s guilt? Maybe it’s a warning and she didn’t listen to the message.

She answers. “Hey.”

“You can’t get in?” There’s a trace of panic there. She wonders if she should be insulted at how fast Jen responded to that. How fast they listened for proof of her demise.

The thing in front of her is grinning again. She ignores it, stomach curdling in disappointment. “No, the code doesn’t work.”

“Are you sure? It’s 5935.”

She waits for a moment before she responds. “That’s what I tried. I just did it again, and got nothing. I’m just going to go home, okay?”

“No!” Jen nearly shouts it before trying to recover. “I mean, just wait. I can stop by quickly and check it. I have the override.”

“Then why am I here? You said you were busy.” She can’t help but dig into the lie now. She wants to see what the excuse is.

“I am. I just have a few minutes, like I said, but I can pass by. Just wait for me, okay?”

“Fine.” She hangs up. Was this really worth it? Could she send someone to their death?

“Tell me about this John.”

She scowls at the thing wearing a man’s face. “Can you read minds?”

“I don’t have to. It’s in your expression.”

“I told you everything you need to know.”

“Then tell me about you. Your parents, your life.”

She looks at him, at the eager twitch to his smile, and ignores the demand. She owes him nothing, even if the thing has offered to take Jen’s life instead. Anger sits in the base of her throat. A sacrifice. Things like that shouldn’t be real, they shouldn’t exist, but neither should the thing that looks like a man but has too many teeth. It’s better to be angry instead of hurt. It’s not the first time someone has tried to take something from her, or used her, but it stings every time and it has yet to get easier. Especially when she thought they were friends. Good friends.

“I’m not telling you anything about my family.”

“Well then I’ll guess, shall I? You’re the odd one out for no reason you can see or they can name? They forget about you frequently and with alarming ease and seem relieved at your absence? They meet your basic needs but take no joy in it, just performing an obligation and no effort is made to bond further?”

She bares her teeth at him. She doesn’t agree or disagree. It’s true that her family wasn’t the warmest or most supportive, but it didn’t matter. Her luck always ran in the worst ways and the people around her sometimes got caught up in it. That often included her parents.

He looks up, past her and towards the door. “She’s here,” he tells her.

“That was quick.” Another nail in the coffin. Another shred of proof at how much her ex-friend wanted the boon she was willing to trade another’s life for.

They fall quiet and she can hear her friend now, coming up the steps and calling her name. She doesn’t respond. She can’t. Not yet. She doesn’t know what to say and there is no real way to explain why she is inside. Especially after the call.

It doesn’t matter. A key scrapes against the lock and she moves back, behind the door so that she’ll be hidden when Jen enters. The thing looks amused but does not give her away. Instead, it seems to melt back into the shadows and she turns the flashlight off on her phone.

The lock gives way and the door opens slowly. The light from the outside illuminates the front hall and even from behind the door, she catches sight of things she missed when she entered. The way the staircase was rotting. The dust on the broken frames that were somehow still on the wall.

Jen calls her name.

Her heart pounds in her chest, regret and hope churning her stomach. This could be a mistake. It could…

“Did you get her?” Nevermind. Jen’s voice is dispassionate and curious. “Did she get inside? Where’s my prize?”

Her lip curls in a snarl at that. Jen moves forward and she takes the chance to close the door behind her former friend. It seems darker than before now that the light is extinguished.

“John?” she has to ask. “Really? That manwhore?” Jen turns to the sound of her voice but neither of them can see each other. She just knows that she’s still there. “That’s what my life is worth to you? I die in some gruesome manner so you can live happily ever after with a fuckboy who drops you on the regular?! You are some piece of work.”

“What are you talking about?” Jen gives a forced laugh. “It was just a joke.”

“Sure it was.”

“You honestly thought I’d sacrifice you?” she asks, peering into the shadows by the door.

“I think the thing that was ready to eat me is more believable than you are right now.”

“Lying does not become you, Jennifer,” the voice of the thing echoes through the dark. “You offered her life in exchange for wealth and the devotion of an unworthy man.”

“I–”

“Just admit it,” she says.

“It’s not like anyone was going to miss you!” Jen says it quickly, in one breath.

She swallows down the hurt at that. “That doesn’t excuse it!” she snapped back.

“You know,” the thing calls out. “I should really thank you, for all that you are unaware of the treasure you’ve placed before me.”

“I gave you a sacrifice,” Jen snaps towards the voice. “Where’s my gift?”

“There’s no sacrifice!” She snarls. “I am not fodder for your garbage happily ever after!”

“Take her!” Jen nearly screams. “You owe me!”

“I owe nothing,” the voice responds. “You, however, owe me a life.”

“I gave you one!”

“You owe a human life.”

Jen screeches at that.

She watches as Jen turns towards her, reaching out and leaping forwards. She jumps back but there’s nowhere to go, no space to lean out of Jen’s range trying to slash at her with what looks like a kitchen knife. She slams her hand forward, knocking Jen’s shoulder as she tries to shove her back.

“If he won’t do it, I will! I’ll get what I deserve!” Jen snarls as her fingers grab her hair and she feels a sharp bite along her side and a tug at her shirt as the knife is drawn back to strike again.

She tries to slam her elbow into Jen’s face but the positioning is awkward. As much trouble as she draws, she’s never really been in a fight before. She’s never had someone trying to kill her. One more shove and she hears the knife clunk onto the floor and skitter away in the dark as one of them kick it in the struggle.

“Help!” She calls out. She knows the thing is watching, can practically taste their eagerness for more bloodshed in the air. She’s not sure whose but she does not intend for it to be hers.

“Gouge her eyes,” the voice calls out. “Use your teeth!”

That wasn’t a bad idea. She turns, wincing as Jen’s grip pulls her hair harder with the motion, and bites down on her arm.

Jen screams and lets go.

She grabs Jen’s hair, repayment of course, only this time she does her best to slam her former friend’s head into the wall. Jen tries to shove her off, but after the first successful hit, the woman is dazed and she does it again and again.

The anger comes out then. The betrayal and fear and desire to survive all come out as she slams Jen’s head over and over. It’s only when she actually feels blood on her hands that she comes back to herself and let’s go. Jen crumples at her feet.

“Oh my god.”

There is slow clapping and her attention returns to the figure who moves closer. She can make him out now in the dark. It’s almost as if a light has been turned on somewhere, just enough that she can start to make things out. Maybe it’s just that her eyes have adjusted to the darkness.

“Beautifully done,” it says.

“I didn’t–”

“You did.” It crouches down and she can see as it touches the blood that’s pooling around the head. It puts its finger in its mouth. “She’s not dead, yet. Thank you for that.” She’s not sure where he gets the knife from but she watches as he slams it down into Jen’s chest. He twists the blade and she looks away.

She inhales sharply. “You have your life,” she says. “We’re done.”

“Not yet,” the figure stands up. The dark eyes somehow shine as he grins at her. “We haven’t been formally introduced.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Not even to know the truth?”

“About what? Her?” She motions to the body on the floor. “I don’t care.” And she doesn’t. Not anymore. She regrets that friendship now. She regrets letting her in.

“About what you are,” it says. “Why you didn’t meet the criteria for the deal.”

She pauses. That’s true. “And what am I?”

“Not human. Not completely.”

“I’m not interested in your games,” she snaps. “Either tell me or open the door and let me leave.”

“No games. Not with you.” It moves closer, a claw traces down her cheek and she tries not to flinch. “We could have a lot of fun. I could show you…many delights.”

“Are you going to tell me why you spared me or not?”

“There’s demon in you,” it says. “A rare thing.”

“Sure there is.” She rolls her eyes. “Can I go?”

It stares at her for a moment before it moves. Suddenly, the place is illuminated. The lights are lit and she is faced with what the thing actually looks like. It looks like a human man aside from the way his clothing seems to be made of the darkness. His hair is as dark as his sharklike eyes. “We can go wherever you want, but first. Allow me.” He bites his thumb before he reaches down and she hisses as he presses his fingers against the cut on her side. He drags them across the entire cut.

It burns, sharp and cold. She tries to pull back and he releases her, once the pain finally stops. She glares at him. “I didn’t invite you.”

“And yet I have the answers I know you want.”

She stares at it, at him, for a moment. “A demon, huh?”

“You may call me Aleksander.”

“That’s a human name.”

“Is it? Who knew.”

She snorts at that. “He’s funny too.”

“A good demon has all the best qualities,” he says. He bends down over the body again and inhales sharply. She almost thinks she sees something move, going from one to the other, but he simply licks his lips. He stands and motions towards the door which opens without a touch. “Shall we?”

She ignores the arm he offers and walks out. He follows and walks next to her.

“Your anger was wondrous to watch,” he tells her. “Sharp in the best way, but dangerously slow to rise in your own defence.”

She glances at him. Now that he’s out of the house, he looks more human. It’s some sort of disguise but he grins at her as he catches her looking.

“You’ve got a little demon in you,” he says.

“Okay?” It’s still a matter of opinion.

“Would you like a little more demon in you?”

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares @chrissymunson

#horror prompts #aleksander morozova fic #demon!aleksander #aleksander morozova x oc #the darkling x oc #darkling x oc #grey!oc #dark!fic #though not that dark tbh

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moonlightgrisha · 10 months

Text

Little Palace at Night

Ch. 10 After your grand display, you must face the consequence. Are you content with losing the Black General's trust? [Masterlist] Previous - Next

All days look the same.

Training with Botkin, summoning with Baghra, reading your books, and try to get some sleep.

You wear your kefta, blue as the Etheralki's uniform. It was given you as soon as you returned to the Little Palace. Nobody asked you if you would have chosen another color.

Some Grisha actually like you. They are fascinated by your strange nature, they help you feel at home, they don't care where you are from.

Some others don't make an effort to hide their dissatisfaction. You are a joke to them, a little spoiled royal whose pretty tricks are good only for tea parties.

You walk among them like a ghost.

You spend all your free time reading, especially all reports about war, politics and diplomacy you can get your hands on. The rest of the day you dive right into your training, even though you are not that strong as Botkin would like, or even close to anything Baghra would find acceptable.

Baghra, indeed, is the finishing touch of all your days. No matter how inadequate you may feel, she always manages to make you feel worse. She urges you to learn summoning in the daylight, which seems impossible at first, but as you start practising it, she finds more and more flaws.

She says it's a waste, all this power in a vain little princess like yourself.

You know she's trying to make you angry. And you get angry, and sometimes leave slamming the door of her bloody hut, but you always come back, because you want to learn. You want to master your power.

Baghra may whine as much as she pleases, but you are learning fast.

Genya introduces you to David, a lovely Durast who wants to know everything about your moon summoning, even though you don't know much yourself. He claims that light, like all things, is matter, and you can use it as a blade or a bullet in the same way you shape it as sparkles or spheres. Maybe General Kirigan could teach you the Cut. David insists about it, saying he's pretty sure you can work on your own version.

You don't reply to that.

You have not talked to the Darkling for a while, now. If he asks about you, requesting reports of your training, you are not aware. You see him, of course, passing through the Little Palace and sometimes at dinner, but he never speaks to you, and you never go after him.

You pretend you don't care.

But you find yourself going over and over your last conversation at the Winter Palace, always in the most unconvenient places, like during your training, or when you lie in bed, exhausted after a long day. It is unnerving, and you must put a stop to it, but you don't know how.

There is no friendship between you and him, as both of you have already made clear in your own choice of words.

You will never, ever make the first move, ever.

And you will never apologize. For what!? Just to have your little skirmishes back?

You have more important things to think about, now.

That's what you set your mind about, and you carry on stubbornly.

You'd never think you'd be betrayed by your own body, in your own beloved nighttime.

So, tonight, when you wake up with a startle, finding yourself standing instead of lying in bed, it takes a while before you realize you have been sleepwalking for the first time since you moved to the Little Palace.

Those few seconds feel like a vortex of confusion. You look around, lost, and grab whatever is in front of you. Well, whoever, actually.

As you look up, it turns out it is the General himself.

You try to step back, but he takes a firmer grip on you.

You look at him in confusion long enough to make him feel compelled to speak.

"You exited your quarters and didn't seem alert. The opchrinki reported to me". he explains.

That's the first time you hear his voice in so many weeks, you lost count.

"Sleepwalking", you manage to answer. "See, I did not lie about that".

"No", he repeats, his voice low. "You didn't".

The shapes around you are clearer, now. You are right in front of his rooms, and the door is opened. Why on earth were you going there?

"I am sorry to have disturbed you", you say. "Goodnight".

He shakes his head, and only then you notice you are shaking, too. Your hands tremble, even in his firm grip. "You are in a state. Please".

He gestures to the open door, and before you can refuse, you have already stepped inside.

The light is dimmer than you remember, and he is not wearing his kefta, but a black, loose shirt that looks much more informal. He gestures to an armchair and while you go sit, you ask: "Did I wake you up?"

"You did not". He pours something in a glass, then hands It to you. "I am not having much sleep these days".

His war table is set up with miniatures soldiers and banners. You look at it, while you take the glass to your lips, capturing an unfamiliar scent. "I thought you did not drink liquors".

"I said I do, sometimes. And I reckon you need something stronger than tea".

You sit in silence, sipping the liquid. He leans on the war table, observing his miniature army, stubbornly ignoring you. But you can only be ignored so long.

"That Is quite the army, General Zlatan has gathered", you remark.

He doesn't even lift his gaze from the table. "What would you possibly know of General Zlatan's wherabouts".

His dismissive tone enrages you. You put down your drink. He doesn't know yet, but you can play this game just as he does, maybe even better.

"Well, according to rumors, and to the pamphlets that have been smuggled around in the stables, he has been gathering quite an army in Os Kervo. Deserters, mostly, but regulars too. It seems, our First Army General believes West Ravka might be better off without the Royal Family. You'd be surprised, he doesn't have kind words for you, too. Plus, his father's country estate is not that far from my aunt's, and I remember stepping on the General's feet a few times at receptions. I also remember him not being fond of the Lantsov. Strange way to charme a girl with royal ties."

The Darkling is staring at you, now. How satisfying, finally being more interesting than his miniature army. It takes him a long time to try to speak. "How-"

"I read".

You can spot the ghost of a smile lingering in the corner of his mouth.

"And what does he say about me?"

"That you are arrogant, impulsive and positively dictatorial".

"And do you agree with him?"

"Are you trying to dislike me even more, General?"

He chuckles, and you might think you have won him over, at last. But it's not that easy, and it has only started.

"I do not dislike you, princess. I don't trust you".

Delusion is not easy to hide, but you try to mask it with pride. "You only call me princess out of spite" you reply.

"How would you have me call you, then? Moon Summoner? Or maybe Sankta?"

"I have a name, you know. And you do too, even if you never cared to tell me"

He frowns. The shadows are starting to consume the already feeble light, but maybe you are just imagining it. His words, though, are as sharp as rocks. "My name is something to be earned".

If this was a chance of reconciliation, it went terribly wrong. You stand up and move to the door, without a second look. "I shall leave you to it. Goodnight".

But then, you reconsider. There is still a way, maybe, if you can swallow your pride. It might not get through him, but it could make you feel better.

You are almost on the door when you turn to him. Your words are like a river in flood.

"You know, I really am sorry for disobeying your orders. I was reckless. At the same time, I don't regret it a bit. Isn't that strange? I am still convinced it was the right thing to do. But I should have discussed it with you. Maybe I would have done it anyway, even if you didn't approve, but sneaking behind your back was vile. Just, please, know… I cared for your support more than my actions might have shown. And my satisfaction in putting the Queen in her place was utterly ruined by the fact that you were staring at me like the finest traitor of the lot. Thank you for the drink, It made me look like a fool even more. Goodnight."

You turn around, planning to leave as fast as you can. There will be time to consider all the things that escaped your mouth, later, in your bed, as another sleepless night comes to an end.

But you cannot leave. He has come after you, and he's holding you back, his hand on your wrist.

You look back at him in disbelief.

"Let's walk", he says, slowly. His eyes are such a mistery, he looks at you like he has been knowing you for his all life, and yet you know so little of him.

"Fine".

The two of you walk together in the empty corridors of the Little Palace. There's not a sound, not a soul. Beams of light are cutting through the windows, breaking the thick darkness which you step on.

He takes you outside, on a terrace leading to one of the courtyards. The fresh night air dissipates the last bits of anguish that linger in your heart. Behind you, the Little Palace shines in the night.

"You care so much to regain my trust. Why?"

He has been observing you for a while, already, but you only noticed now. You were captivated by the night sky, the moon you belong to, watching over you. Under this shimmering darkness, you feel you can reply honestly.

"I sometimes think you are the only one who could really understand this". You open your hand, and the glow seems to reflect the moon up above. He looks, charmed as he has always been by your power, and shakes his head.

"I wouldn't dare. A rare power like yours, I cannot begin to understand".

"Just like yours might be incomprehensible to most".

"Not to you?"

"I think I have known darkness all my life".

Your words leave him speechless. You realize something has changed in him, you feel it in the way he stands next to you, hands behind his back, composed as always, but with restless eyes, deep breathing.

When he finally speaks, he has regained control of his emotions, or this is what he wants you to think.

"You wield a majestic power, you know politics, and your insight has proven right more than once. We would be powerful allies".

"And the matter of trust?" you ask, your heart racing.

"You seem willing to work on that".

You look at him and see a wicked smile on his lips. There is tenderness and provocation, and oh, you like this game, but you'd never let him win. "This is not only on me. I require more clarity from you too. If we are to work together, we shall be equals".

You hold out your hand. He waits a moment, then he shakes it, but instead of letting you go, he holds it a bit longer, a bit closer. This is not an handshake anymore. But then he makes one of his witty remarks.

"Fine. You do know how to strike a bargain, princess".

You snort, annoyed, and take back your hand. "Please!"

You lean on the terrace and look once more at the darkened landscape, the silent woods, the silhouette of the Little Palace lying asleep under the moon. Finally, you turn to him, and you don't know this, but your smile, and the randomness of what you say next, it fatally breaks his heart .

"After all this melodrama, if I ever find out you betrayed my trust, General, that will be the end of you".

He smiles back, bitter and aching, but you mistake it for a smirk. His voice is a whisper that gets lost in the night.

"And the end of me shall be".

Taglist

@mysweetlittledesire@budugu@flostvs1508@aoi-targaryen@sakshi2005 @rainy-day-lady @sakuracheol @sentimental---circus @thelastemzy

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amiramorozova · 5 months

Text

Best Friends to Eternal lovers - Baghra's POV and Alina's POV

Having to fill in for my son to bring forth a girl who could not summon at will was absurd...but it was technically his wedding night since he and his bride chose to go get the girl instead of running off to their wedding night early. So I did as asked and when it was time, brought Alina before the King. The King and I hardly had much interaction to say the least.

"Moi Tsar, this is Alina Starkov. The Sun Summoner." I said as he looked at her, had my son been here there would probably be more finess, he knew how to charm the royals. Something I taught him but then he was my son. "Well let's see what she can do." He said as I nod to a Grisha who helped make the room go dark so the King could not see.

I didn't have a choice but to amplify the girl so she could see for herself that she was sunlight and even the royals were impressed. When it was over, then the King stood up. "Amazing, when can she start?" The King asked as I kept my cool despite my annoyance with being here in my sons place. "That will have to be taken up with General Kirigan, when he returns from his honey moon with his newly wife." I said

The King realized then he had no way of finding out the details he wanted with his General on a honeymoon with being newly wed. It was rare to even see a General get time and to see the two were off, I almost half expected Amira to come back pregnant with his child..the idea of my first grandchild seemed odd.

"Well get her training started, the faster we can become one nation the faster we can end the talk of this united Ravka." The King said as we both bowed. I walked Alina back to her room where she was hugged by the other Grisha and it seemed they all accepted her except one..the one who wanted my son's attention but lost it to his wife. After that we made it ot her room and she seemed to have questions.

"So you are?" Alina asked as I was still annoyed about this entire situation. "Baghra, I train the Grisha. I also help out when he needs it which is rare but then he doesn't get married everyday." I said as she must have picked up the idea that I was annoyed with his choices but it was his choices. "You don't like his wife? She seems nice, she said she's a hundred and eighteen years old.." Alina said as she must have noticed my annoyance.

-Alina's Pov-

Baghra was annoyed, I wondered why but she didn't seem to right out answer. "Yes, they are older than they both appear. The stronger the grisha, the longer the life." Baghra said though I got the feeling there was so much more than she was letting on. Baghra then looked like she wanted to tell me something but then she saw a fabrikator come and they talked over a few things.

"You're going to do practice starting tomorrow and you'll do combat practice. You will come and do lessons with me after that." Baghra said as I nod but had a feeling she would tell me in time.

As I went to my room I laid down, one thing I saw when we were walking was grisha girls upset..I wondered what that was all about but figured that I would find out in time.4

-Baghra pov-

Walking back to my hut I wondered how far this was going to go, who would Aleksander give the stag to if he was truly going after the stag. Though, I knew the truth or I could guess who he would give it to...Amira.

The whole reason I wanted to keep Amira from Aleksander was in case he got power hungry..especially after Merzost but it wasn't working. No matter how much time I kept them apart, they found each other over and over again. Aleksander had become obsessed with his grandfather's study and now he had not one but two Sun Summoners to do his bidding..I could only hope that Amira will make wise choices.

I thought about warning Alina about Aleksander, how he might turn Amira into his own benefit. Warn her that he might try to find a way to split the amplifier between them to trigger both of their power..but it wasn't heard of..

He would never break the laws and try to give the stag to both..would he? The more I thought about it the more I thought he might try to figure out how to do just that. Have both of them bound to his power, but where Amira would be free as his lover..he would turn Alina into a slave. I knew I had to prepare her for whatever would come.

My Son will not win..

//Wedding night on the next chapter//

TagList: @lifeisingrey, @houseoftoomanyfandoms, @mizelophsun11, @budugu , @wheresthesunshinesblog

#Grishaverse #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone #fanfic #original story #aleksander morozova #Amira Silina #Amira Silina x Aleksander Morozova #shadow summoner #sunsummoner #tidemaker #dual summoner #darkling #the darkling #Team Darkling #darkling x reader #darkling x oc #Best Friends to Eternal Lovers #ben barnes

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lostinthemind27 · 1 year

Text

“What are you?”

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Grisha!OC

Summary: Running and hiding. That’s what Arina was good at. She’s done it for years. Yet the moment she lets her guard down everything changes. Though she doesn’t know if it will be for better or worse...

Word Count: 2490

Warnings: Slight mention of wounds and acid burning. Some violence. I think that’s it? If I left anything out please tell me!

A/N: So I thought I’d share this A) because season 2 trailer of S&B is dropping tomorrow and B) because this has been sitting in my drafts since like last year. Also it is supposed to be the beginning of a whole multi-chapter fic, but idk when I’m gonna be able to actually get around to finishing it because I have like 10 other fics in my drafts...It’s a problem, I know. Anyways, came up with this because I thought that since Grisha powers are called “small science” I figured why can’t they expand their designated skill set and I always love the tent scene in both the book and show. Also this is set like centuries before the events of S&B. If that makes sense and sound interesting then have fun reading!

(Mood board was created by me! All the pictures were found on pinterest and belong to their rightful owners. I also have mood boards for both Aleksander and Arina which I’m still debating if I should share those...)

The howls carry through the air to her ears. The cracking of a twig makes her head look up from her frantic packing. She didn’t have a lot of time. The wind enhanced the crunch of the footsteps that they tried to hide.

They knew what they were dealing with, they’ve killed hundreds of her kind before without blinking an eye. This time shouldn’t have been any different.

She hoisted her bag up and let it rest across her body, the small satchel containing everything she needed. Her head twists, observing the snow-covered trees and ground. She can’t see them. Not yet, but the continued sound of footsteps gives her enough of an incentive to start running.

Her feet hit the ground as with each step her pace quickens, trying to outrun the hunting party whose steps she could hear match hers. The trees passed her as she weaved through the forest, trying to lose the hunting party in a wood they knew so much better than her.

Her foot caught a wayward root as she looked behind, crashing to the ground, her hands barely catching her before she’d face plant into the snow.

The growl of a wolf was in front of her now. The hunters closed in around her as she lay still, propped up slightly by her arms.

That wolf snarled at the woman as she stared at it. Its dark eyes reflected the moon and its pure white coat shone in the light. The woman and the wolf continued their staredown until she heard a twig snap, her focus shifting to the other hunters surrounding her.

She raised herself to a crouch, her eyes flicking from one hunter to the next, worried about some eager boy releasing his bowstring pushing her to slow her movements.

“Drüsje,” one of them spits at her.

She smirks to herself, slowly moving her hands closer together.

They tighten their grips on the bows and the wolves snarl once more.

Her hands touch and as soon as they move again, a circle of air blasts from her, knocking the hunters and wolves off of their feet.

She pushes herself to stand and takes off running once again. The hunters, wolves, and snow fade with each step she takes towards what she hopes will be her sanctuary.

**************

The screams were the first thing to reach Arina. Not the sound of acid fizzing, nor the smell of burning flesh, but the horrific screams of a fellow Fabrikator. Screams that haunt Arina’s nightmares.

Her feet started to move towards the sound, pushing aside the small crowd that had formed. A tingle emanated in her fingertips and slowly crawled up her arms, a sensation she hasn’t felt since she came to the Little Palace. The feeling travelled from her hands to the burning flesh under her touch, the sizzling stopping as the skin mended. She couldn’t hear the whispers of the people behind her or the grimace coming from her fellow Fabrikator, Arina was so focused on the wound in front of her that she didn’t hear the oprichniki enter the room.

She finally opened her eyes as the buzzing dissipated and connected gazes with the Fabrikator, who ended up being a girl named Iva. Instead of a “thank you” escaping her lips, Iva backed away from the older woman as she looked past Arina’s frame.

The fear in the girl’s eyes is one Arina has seen in thousands of people before when she displayed her power, but for once it wasn’t directed at her. As she turned her head her arms were grasped by two oprichniki. They dragged her from her feet and out the door of the workshop before anyone could say a word, including Arina herself.

They pulled her through the halls of the Little Palace, their hands still grasping her arms in a tight hold as two guards stood in front and two behind them. Arina felt like a prisoner in the one safe place for her people. “Where are you taking me?”

She received no response from the soldiers. Though as they turned a corner and the big black mahogany doors with the sun in eclipse symbol carved into them was revealed, it was pretty clear.

The soldiers standing to the sides, pull the doors open for the approaching party only to reveal the General standing with one of his trusted Corporalki.

“What is this?” The Darkling says, obviously annoyed with the group of soldiers dragging a Durast into his room.

“Moi soverenyi this woman, Yelena Ivanova, just healed a fellow Fabrikator after an acid spill.” One of the men in front reported as they stepped to the side to allow their General a look at the strange girl.

Not a girl. The Darkling studies the woman as she’s still held in the grasp of two of his oprichniki. Her light brown hair that’s tied in a bun with strands falling in her face, highlighting the beautiful shape and cheekbones of her face. Yet, for a practising Grisha, her eyes held slight bags and her cheeks look sunken in. She’s missing something, The Darkling thought. Though he puts aside studying her when it finally registers what his soldier said to him. A healer dressed in Fabrikator robes. How interesting. “What are you?”

“A Durast, General.” She answers with her head held high, no trace of fear on her face.

“You healed a fellow Grisha, something that is outside the skill set of a Durast.” He takes a step towards her, “So I’ll ask again, what are you?”

“A practitioner of the small science, nothing more.” He walks towards her with a small dagger. She knows what he’ll do, testing her again after she already passed as a Durast, hiding the other parts of her that are buried so deep down. “What reason do you have to test me again?”

“Call it curiosity. Now, your arm, please.” He holds out his hand waiting for her to place her arm in his grasp and motioning for his soldiers to release their grip.

Once they make contact, a rush of power flows through Arina. He’s an amplifier. As the dagger drags through her skin, she can’t hold the door close. His call is too strong, even after years of practice. That tingle that she felt when healing Iva grew to a roar through her body. The strength of her power cascaded down on her like a tidal wave after years of burying it deep down. While she felt the door break open a relief ran across her and a whisper from the man in front of her, “Don’t hold back.”

A rush of wind blows through the room, the candles burn brighter to a blinding white, the general’s heart rate picks up to the point he struggles to breathe while the guards around them start to collapse. The Darkling releases his grasp on her and their surroundings return to normal, his heart slowing down to a preferred rhythm.

“Leave us.” His voice boomed towards the recovering guards that resided in the room, dismissing the oprichniki and other Grisha.

The two Grisha study each other. The Darkling, a man who held himself with such power and strength was in awe of the young woman in front of him, whose skin brighten after her release of power. Though he didn’t know if young was correct. With her power, she could’ve been as old as himself.

Arina looked into the shadow summoner’s eyes. So dark and deep are the pools that hold so many secrets, much like her own. She could see the age and the weariness that he carried because she sees it in the mirror every day.

“How?” The General continues to analyse her as he waits for a response.

“How what?” The Durast feigns ignorance as she walks around the ornate wooden map table, studying the troop positions and staring at the scar on Ravka.

“You are able to heal a being with the ease of a born Healer if my soldiers are correct. You made the wind move and the candles burn like an Etherealki. My heartbeat sped up to a rate that only a Heartrender could manipulate it to. And you’re a Durast.” He takes a few steps toward Arina. “I will ask only one more time. How?”

Arina doesn’t know if she should tell him. Her walls have been built so high that no one was able to climb or topple them. And yet, when the Darkling connected with her a sliver formed. The door to one of her hidden rooms blasted open and she couldn’t fix it. Did she want to fix it? She’s hidden herself for years, trying to stay alive, trying to survive. She’s been successful. She found her way to a sanctuary, a haven for Grisha that only a few years ago didn’t exist. Why couldn’t she share what she’s learned? It’s not like it hasn’t been done before, give or take a couple of hundred years ago. But her secrets have kept her alive. She’s seen plenty of friends die because of just being Grisha, she doesn’t want herself to be next because she’s different from the rest. Yet the Darkling looks at her in awe, not in fear.

“I’ll make you a deal.” The Darkling scoffs at her, and she ignores him. “I’ll give you an answer for an answer.” She raises her brow at him, waiting for him to accept her rules. She knows he’ll accept, he’s too curious not to.

“And why would I accept that deal?” He’s curious, how could he not be? But he still has a reputation to uphold and he couldn’t be seen as to eager for her answer.

“Because I have something you want and the only way you’ll get the answer is if I get one in return.” She looks him in the eye. “Or else I can walk right out those doors and maybe even out of the Little Palace.”

No. The Darkling didn’t want her to leave. She could turn the tide and if she can learn how to summon the water, wind, and fire maybe… “Deal.”

“I taught myself.” He gives her a quizzical gaze. “What I learned most as a Durast is that everything, on a fundamental level, is the same. If I can manipulate wood or metal, why couldn’t I change chemicals? Or the human body? Or the flames? It’s not magic, it’s science. Or rather, small science. We do not conjure from nothing, we manipulate that which already exists around us, and everything is the same.”

“You taught yourself? How were you able to accomplish that in such a short time?”

“No. I gave you an answer, I want one in return.” He quells his curiosity for a moment, remembering the deal. He motions for her to ask. “How are you an amplifier?”

“Bloodline.” He answers simply, not willing to tell her the whole truth. His trust in others was shattered at a young age and only built again for a few. He didn’t think this woman had earned his trust, but maybe she could.

“I gave you a whole speech about the small science and you give me a one-word answer? How is that fair?”

“You wanted an answer and I gave you one. You did not specify the length of it.” He steps towards her, trapping her against the map. “Now, I would like another.”

Arina doesn’t shrink, she doesn’t look away from his dark eyes. “And what do you want answered?”

“How old are you?”

She’s startled by his question but hides it behind a smirk. “You should never ask a lady her age.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

“I’m old enough to have seen the creation of the fold and the rise of a safe haven for Grisha.”

“Who’s giving the vague answers now?”

“Two can play a game, Darkling.” She analyses his face quickly, “How old are you? Your face may look young, but your eyes hold centuries of pain and torment.”

“Being hunted most of your life can add years to you. The pain and torment I hold is a burden shared by many Grisha.” He looks down at Arina, her eyes the opposite of his. They hold light, a glimmer he hasn’t seen in someone since Luda. Yet as he delves further he finds that shared pain. That shared suffering is covered by the warmth she holds for her people.

The Darkling takes a step back, distancing himself from the mysterious woman, and pulling at the sleeves of his shirt. “You’ll be moving to a different room and developing your skills with either Bahgra or me. You can continue to work in the Fabrikator workshop if you like.”

Arina couldn’t move. She couldn’t believe that she was getting treated differently than the other Grisha. Why was she special? She’s just another Girsha, it’s not like she can summon the stars or sun. Sure she’s a lot older than all of the Grisha here (minus the Darkling) but all she can do is what any other Grisha could. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why are you moving my rooms? Why am I being treated differently?”

“Because you are different.”

“I’m really not.”

The Darkling couldn’t understand why Arina thought so little of herself. She can manipulate the small sciences outside her original cast, and she thinks she isn’t special? She’s the only one to do so since Ilya Morozova, a man that used merzost, and she did it from years of studying alone. “Why do you discount how special you are?”

“Because I’m not special. I’m just a Durast that taught herself the small sciences. Any Grisha could do that.”

“But they haven’t.” That shut her up. “We’ll help you expand your abilities and maybe you can teach other Grisha as well.”

“And what do you know about the other classes?”

“Some. But it will be Baghra that shall advance your studies in the typical orders.”

“And what will you do?”

“I’ll help you grow.” He smiles. A genuine smile because for the first time in a long time, Aleksander has hope. “You may leave and gather your things, my oprichniki will show you to your new room.” Though as she turned to leave he remembered one more thing. “What is your name?”

“What?” She didn’t know what he meant. He already knew the name she gave, how could he possibly know that it was fake?

“Your name.” He approached her once again. “You most likely lied about your name when you came here, so Yelena, what’s your name?”

“If I tell you mine will you tell me yours? Because I highly doubt your real name is Leonid.”

All she receives is a smirk from him and she gives the man one in return. That smirk is the last thing he sees as she disappears through the door, both of their true names still kept in the dark.

#aleksander morozova x oc #aleksander morovoza #aleksander morozova fanfiction #darkling x oc #darkling #darkling fanfiction #general kirigan x oc #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #grishaverse #ben barnes

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ignyxdaughter · 1 year

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𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈𝐈 - 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

(𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 /𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐳𝐨𝐯𝐚 𝐱 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧)

MASTERLIST

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word count: 5066

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Katherine lets out a heavy sigh as she finally arrives at her room at Praecantrix. Her head is aching because of the huge quantity of simultaneous thoughts racing in her mind, her body craves for a well-deserved sleep after spending the night in Ravka's freezing weather, and her empty stomach screams for a meal.

"You look like shit."

She jumps in fright when a voice echoes through the room, and automatically places a hand on her chest in an attempt to calm her heart. She doesn't need to open her eyes to know who it is. "Levi."

The man is lazily seated on a chair, yet his brown eyes attentively examine every inch of his cousin's appearance. He was starting to consider everything reasonably normal, until spotting the dried tears on her cheeks, now rosy from the cold. Levi opens his mouth to question, but is interrupted by the woman, who, thinking that his gaze was on her bloody hands, thought he had mistaken the dried scarlet liquid as hers.

"Not mine."

"That's weird. I thought your tears were yours."

She immediately opens her eyes to look at him. "I thought you were—"

"It's easy to know this isn't your blood, Kat." He stands up from the chair and heads towards the room's door. "Take a bath and then we'll talk."

Katherine obeys him, gathering a new pair of clothes to wear before going to the washroom. If she wasn't so tired and cold, she would wait for the water to naturally fill the bathtub, but as this wasn't the case, she quickly made a spell to conjure hot water inside the tub. The witch sighs in relief when her skin makes contact with the liquid, finally feeling comfortable and sensing her tense body slowly ease.

She takes her time in the washroom, wanting nothing but to calm her mind and clean herself. The water is almost cold when she decides to go back to her room, only to find Levi laying on the bed with closed eyes.

"I left you a plate." He points at the desk, which now has food and drinks. "You must be starving, so eat."

The shadow singer isn't able to stop the small smile forming on her lips. "You are being too gentle with me. That is unusual."

"I don't want you looking even more like a malnourished person." With a smirk, he opens an eye to see her face hardens. "Better?"

"Come back to your tender version, arsehole."

The man only shrugs and continues to rest as she seats on the chair and begins to eat. The peaceful silence that they stay makes Katherine smile a bit. It has always been like this with Levi: excited when the two seek a distraction, tranquil when one of them goes through something terrible... From the moment they met, as soon as Katheribe entered the Mikaelson residence at eight years old, the two understood each other. Because they were adopted and sometimes felt a little out of place in the world, they were always each other's anchor. Of course, Michelle joined them too, but for her the person who is by her side every time is Agatha.

A sudden wind escapes through the wooden window, making the shadow singer shiver. Without thinking, she grabs the warmest thing in the room and puts it around her shoulders as if it was a blanket.

"This cloak isn't yours."

Her body instantly stiffens with the realization of what clothing she has chosen. "I..."

"It's from Kirigan, isn't it?" She looks down in nervousness, fearing for a moment his words. "I don't share the same thoughts as Hope, Kat. I think he does you good."

"I don't know about that."

There's a creaking noise near her, probably the bed as Levi moved to sit straight. "What do you mean?"

"We fought."

"Why?"

"Because he wants to expand the Fold." Her voice is barely a whisper as she faces her cousin with a clenching heart. "H-He wants power and the safety of Grishas, but is following the wrong path to achieve it."

The man is with a stern expression now, quickly understanding the seriousness of the situation that his cousin put herself in. "If he expands the Fold, there will be an imbalance."

Katherine nods. "I told him that. He will be hated, his people will be hated, our people will be hated."

"You have to stop him, Kat. Those Supernaturals don't have elsewhere to go. They don't deserve to live another hunt."

"I know, and that's why I told him to architect a coup against the Lantsov."

"A coup against the Lants— Are you insane?! This is not our country to mess with!"

"But it's still our people! You said it yourself that those Supernaturals don't deserve another hunt, and there will be one if we don't interfere."

"Katherine—"

She rushes to his side as if he would storm out of the room at any moment. "Please, Levi. We cannot just gather Agatha's memories back and leave as if nothing happened. We made a deal with these people, they are trusting us to help them get a better life. Disappointing them is not an option!"

"I don't want to let them down either, but being part of a coup? Really?"

"You have already been in thousands! Why is this one different? Besides, this plan will prevent a magical imbalance. The Fold will be right where it is without any reduction nor expansion. The hatred towards our people will decrease."

He massages his temples as an attempt to ease the thoughts that are starting to race inside his head. This is one of the times when Levi is sure that Katherine just seems to be the Mikaelson that doesn't get others into trouble. She indeed is the one who had put the family in less problems, however, all of her bad situations are unpredictably worse than all of the others. "I'm still not sure about this."

"You and Michelle have traveled the entire Ravka. You have seen some cities' misery and helplessness against the war, you have witnessed awful life conditions for mortals, Grishas and Supernaturals. There is no way that you haven't concluded that even the mortals aren't satisfied with the Lantsovs reign. If they continue to rule like that, it will only be a matter of time before someone explodes against them."

"It will take centuries for that to happen, Kat."

"That's a blink of an eye for us, so what's the matter in just fastening it a little?"

The man opens his mouth to answer her, but before his voice echoes in the room, he feels Katherine's warm and slender fingers touch his temple. Levi enters in a sudden trance due to having access to his cousin's argument with Kirigan. He sees her crying while revealing intimate secrets and the General's mournful face as he listens to her. Then he calms her down and gives his cloak to her. Finally, the sweet moment transforms into a frustrating one, the woods' darkness increasing as they shout at each other.

After what felt like eternity, though it only lasted a second, the memory transmitter spell vanishes from Levi's mind. The man opens his eyes only to see his cousin looking at him expectantly and, although not knowing if her idea is a good one, he doesn't find in himself the ability to reject her. Because he remembers the countless times when she came back to Praecantrix with a loving smile on her lips or a calmness that implies that she is at peace with herself. Kirigan makes Katherine want to live, and the Ancestors know how she struggles to have the desire to be alive.

The younger Mikaelson glances at the woman for a few more moments before agreeing. "Fine! I'll help you with that fucking plan."

The hug that Katherine gives him warms his heart and, deep down his soul, Levi knows he made the right choice.

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3 days later — Os Alta, Ravka

It's been three days since her fight with Kirigan and he hasn't contacted her yet. Katherine tries to maintain herself occupied to not think about the General, but it's useless. No matter how many meetings she has with Anastasia to tell her what's the current situation in the country, how much discussions she has with Levi about the coup against the Lantsovs or how many hours she passes searching for a memory spell for Agatha, her mind will always find a way to come back to The Darkling. Without noticing, the shadow singer found herself sleeping with his cloak at night, smelling the sandalwood scent in order to obtain comfort.

How is he? Is he as woeful as I am? Has he at least considered giving up his plan? Did he get scared with my sorrowful mind and furious yells? Does he think I rejected him for being the Black Heretic?

Katherine groans and opens her eyes to gaze at the ceiling. For the Ancestors sake, what is happening to her?! Not even in her most especial romances she has been like that, so why is it different with Kirigan?

Anastasia saw her concentration slipping countless times in these days and, whenever they were alone, she would say that this is all due to the strong bond The Handler shares with The Darkling. Of course, she happily ignored the hybrid, not finding sense that just because she is in love she can act like a fool.

"No!" Katherine abruptly sits up, her light green eyes widening at the sudden realization. "I am not falling in love."

You are, miss. Umbra's sweet voice echoes in her ears.

"No, I am not!" She shakes her head in denial. "I can't."

That isn't something you can control. For once, trust your instincts, miss; it's been ages since you have allowed yourself to love again.

"But, like Hope said, he may break my heart—"

He won't.

"—And if he does, I don't know how long it will take me to recover."

You won't have to pass through that again because he won't hurt you.

"How are you so sure about that?"

Because we know him too.

Katherine frowns, confused at the statement. "What do you mean by that?" The shadow doesn't reply to her. "Umbra?" Again, there is no answer, though she can feel a dark figure excitingly approaching her. Taking that as a cue, the witch makes another calling attempt, finally feeling that this time she will be answered. "Umbra!"

No. Cheshire. The creature corrects her.

"Cheshire!" She immediately stands up to properly face the grinning shadow. Oh, she has been so worried about it, thinking something had hurt it and made it unable to come back to her. She has asked her shadows innumerable times about Cheshire, but none of them gave her any concrete response. "What are you doing here? You left for days without any warning and came back as if nothing had happened?"

I was watching over someone.

"A person?! Have them harm you or discover your hideout? If so, I swear that I will hunt and torture them until—"

There is no need to frat, Katherine. I am alright.

The witch lets out a heavy sigh, not taking her eyes away from the dark figure. "Are you sure?"

Yes! Its sharp smile increases as it extends her a small piece of paper. I even have a message for you!

"A message?" The creature nods and she takes the paper from its tail. The air in her lungs instantly stops as she recognizes the neat handwriting. It is identical to the one on the notebooks on the General's office that she read while being disguised as a handmaiden. "You were spying on Kirigan?" Cheshire nods again. "Why?"

Because I needed to warn you in case he wanted to see you again. Now, read the letter.

Katherine glances down at her shaking hands and gulps as she reads the five words written.

I changed my mind. - Kirigan

Her heart skips a beat at the thought of meeting him again, her stomach starts to twist in nervousness of what he will say to her. He changed his mind. Kirigan has given up that insane plan of his and put some sense inside his head. Does that mean that he now agrees with her 'discreet way' of gaining power and, therefore, wants to execute it?

There is only one way to find out. Cheshire's voice interrupts her thoughts.

She bites her lip, uncertain on what to do, but concludes that her talk with The Darkling will be fruitless if she searches for him now. She is with a lot on her head at the moment, and he must be already asleep. Katherine then spends the rest of the night with Nick, Levi and Michelle, seeking after an effective memory spell for Agatha and discussing the possibilities that won't harm her cousin.

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It is afternoon when Kirigan leaves the Grisha training camps to go to his war room. He has spent the morning watching all the practices of the Second Army for at least half an hour, analyzing the soldiers and listening to reports from the regents of each Grisha order. It was tiring, to say the least, but it has restrained him from thinking about a certain witch. He has nothing to do now but believe that Cheshire has delivered her the message and that she is willing to meet him again.

"Moi soverenyi." The General stops on his tracks as he hears Ivan's urgent voice.

He has to hold the urge to roll his eyes at the thought that there has been an emergency and he is now being needed. "Yes?"

"I can hear a heartbeat." The Heartrender approaches him. "There's someone in your chambers."

Katherine.

He takes a deep breath to contain the mix of excitement and nervousness. Only the thought of seeing the woman again makes a shiver run over him. "If it is an intruder, I will take care of them myself."

Without looking back, The Darkling enters the war room only to find it empty. This makes his whole body go into alert, beginning to consider the idea of a real intruder. He looks around in search of the slightest movement that a person can make, attentive to any detail in the room that may imply that someone was — and still is — there. Kirigan stretches his fingers, ready to attack whoever is daring to spy on or harm him, and begins to slowly walk around the chamber to analyze it more clearly.

A sudden wind by his right makes his gaze instantly go in that direction. His hands begin to move in order to summon a shadow, but he stops as he sees a small piece of darkness circling the said members. For a moment, his whole body stiffens. He wasn't the one who conjured it.

Then another tiny shadow circles his hands again and consequently produces a slight wind, the same delicate draft that made him look to his right. There are only two people who can create darkness as him: Baghra and Katherine. He prays that it is the latter, since he cannot even bear the thought of having a conversation with his mother right now.

However, as another innocent shadow circles his hands again, the General just knows that it is Katherine. The memory of him summoning a tiny piece of darkness to put a strand of hair behind her ear, followed by her imitating the action and making a shadow circle his face, makes the corner of his lips lift in a glimpse of a smile. She remembered the gesture and now is repeating it.

Kirigan turns around only to find her in a dark corner of the room, hidden by its obscurity. She takes a step forwards, letting the light illuminate her slander frame. The witch is blushing and her mouth quivers into a small grin as her eyes meet his. As she begins to speak, she tightens the grip around the black cloak on her body, his cloak. "I was starting to get impatient. I waited for you all morning."

To say that his ego didn't float in joy with that statement is a blatant lie. "Did you?" She nods. "Then why didn't you search for me? I am sure you could've managed to find me."

"I wanted to surprise you." Katherine unbuttons the cloak and takes it off of her shoulders. Of course she isn't happy to undo herself from such a warming — and nice-smelling — clothing, but it belongs to Kirigan and he would soon demand it back anyways. "Besides, it would be unwise to walk through the hallways wearing The Darkling's cloak. Rumors about your love life would be made."

He raises his eyebrow, amused. "Rumors about my love life are already made. It wouldn't be unusual for a new one to appear."

"But it would be unusual for a random woman to shamelessly be with your clothes."

The witch's gracious steps echo in the war room as she goes to his desk and, whilst leaving the cloak on his chair, picks up a certain paper. Their contract. Argh, Kirigan has forgotten that he left this there in the early morning. "You know, I wasn't born with the gift of negotiation. My father was the one who had it."

"So why did you learn it, then?"

"Because I wanted to be just like him." Her light green eyes look away from the contract to gaze at him. For an instant, the General is concerned that her sad smile will lead to another breakdown. "He was considered the noble one of my family, always knowing the right words for any situation and the exact moment they were needed. His deals were unpredictable, and his wisdom, along with his patient yet indifferent facade, used to shock everyone."

"He seems to have been a memorable man." The Darkling honestly says, thinking that no one who has crossed Katherine's dad path was able to forget him.

"He certainly was." She looks away, probably having memories about him, but then a sudden chuckle surprises Kirigan. "I remember hearing my uncle Klaus saying that my father was the brother to summon when negotiations were made, whilst he was the one to appear when those ended. These two complemented each other: Elijah was the mind while Klaus was the fists."

"Your family seems united."

"We are."

When Aleksander was young and finally met Ulla, his half-sister that he spent countless days searching for, he used to constantly think about what would have happened if Baghra hadn't given away the girl to the lover who had sired her. These thoughts have tormented his mind for ages, but as time flew and he started to learn to accept his life instead of lamenting it, they began to fade. However, that doesn't stop him from grieving for brief moments about the sister he will never see again or the life that he couldn't have.

"That must be wonderful."

"It is." The shadow singer gives him a sad smile, as if she knew what thoughts were in his mind. "Especially because we are always welcoming with those we love."

Kirigan swears that he felt his heart skipping a beat. He couldn't help but feel proud to see her pale cheeks getting red and her gaze immediately falling back to the contract. "As I said—", she quickly changed the subject "I wanted to be like my father. So I started to go to the meetings he allowed me to witness. I loved every single one. I would sit in a dark corner and observe the behaviors in the room, analyze the reactions as the talk went by and conclude every emotion that each person was feeling. At the end of the day, I would tell him my discoveries and he would listen before complimenting or correcting me. He would even give me books to read and ask me to examine the reasons why the characters acted in some ways during specific situations."

"He taught you how to read people."

She shakes her head in uncertainty. "I was born with that gift. He only... perfected it."

"He surely did an outstanding job. Has he also taught you how to negotiate?"

"Unfortunately, I had to learn that by myself. He only had time to teach me the basics before dying. And although not knowing a thing about making deals, I had two traits in my favor. The first one was my ability to read people."

"And the second one?"

"I was never an easy person to fool." His amused glance makes her release a small chuckle. "I have always helped the Supernaturals in New Orleans and, by doing that, I have seen many mortals seeking witches for a spell. They would appear with a desperate face and give whatever money amount that the witch demanded. When I grew up, I decided that it was this kind of negotiation that I would follow."

The Darkling raises a skeptical eyebrow. "But you aren't paid with money. You require favors in exchange for a spell."

Katherine's red lips quiver in a smirk. "Exactly. I was raised by a wealthy family; I already have my own money and don't need more. Favors, on the other hand, are always precious, especially ones that my client will only find out by the time I need them." Finally, she leaves the contract on the desk and turns to Kirigan. "This type of negotiation though is dangerous, uncertain. I would be persecuted by hunters and acquaintances of my clients if I showed my face. Therefore, I had to find a way to stay safe and guarantee that no one would ever betray me."

"So you began to sign the bargains with blood and cast a spell that prevented them from revealing who you are."

She nods. "Blood magic is unbreakable and trackable. It is the only magic that allows me to locate my clients even after centuries that I accomplished their wishes. The silencing spell, along with my shadows gathering letters addressed to me, ensures that my identity is still a secret and that no one will ever dare to confront me. After all, I just meet people in places that I know with the back of my hand."

Genius. Kirigan thinks, stunned at the woman's declarations.

He looks at her from the top to bottom before asking: "Why the name Handler?"

"I don't know. Why the name Darkling?" Katherine chuckles as he rolls his eyes in annoyance. However, she silently approaches him without breaking eye contact nor making a noise. He discretely takes a deep breath as she takes off the ruby ring on her right ring finger and reveals a tattooed thin black line circling her finger. "Because I am a handler but, mainly, because I have everyone wrapped around my finger. I handle all the wishes and dreams of people, therefore, I have the power to accomplish or crush them." Her light green eyes meet his dark browns in false innocence. "Manipulation is an art, and I am the best artist the world has ever seen."

The smile he gives her is able to hypnotize and lure anyone to do the wishes of the General of the Second Army. But not Katherine. She isn't a fool to believe in sweet lies, and the increasing smirk on her face only comproves that she has understood his little act. The witch ignores all the nervousness growing in her stomach as she touches the man's cheek. "Manipulation suits you."

Kirigan's heart is beating as fast as a drum when he coups her warm — and currently red — face. "I am afraid I'll have to say the same to you, milaya."

Her eyes widen in surprise, the air in her lungs gone from the moment he has called her that. Milaya means 'darling' in russian. Did he actually mean that or was it unintentional? It certainly seems an unusual behavior from the cold Shadow Summoner everyone knows, but to Katherine this feels right, an action she didn't know she was needing.

"Come—", his soothing voice takes the witch away from her reveries "I have to show you something."

She tries not to stutter, but her efforts are useless as her mind is still on the affectionate name. "W-What?"

"You'll see."

He extends a hand to her, which she accepts, and leads her through his private hallways until they get to the Little Palaces stables. She stays hidden in the shadows as Kirigan orders a servant to prepare his black stallion. The waiting is almost nonexistent and soon he is mounting the horse and entering the woods.

Katherine travels through the shadows until the man stops at a place where no one can see them and invites her to be with him. He helps her into the saddle and sits behind her, tightly gripping the animal's rope to ensure that she is between his arms and won't fall. Kirigan lets out a genuine laugh when she startles as the stallion starts to suddenly gallop.

Both of them are so immersed in delight that they don't even notice that they arrived at their destination. After the two get to the snowy floor, the witch observes the place where they are at. She frowns in confusion as soon as her eyes meet the Black Heretic fountain.

"Why here?"

"To seal our deal in the place where it all began." He says while tying his black horse on a tree.

She opens her mouth to question him, but her words vanish as soon as The Darkling begins to summon darkness. Shivers run down her entire body as he expertly expands the shadow and shapes it into the form of a huge sharp blade. Katherine's jaw drops as he releases it towards some trees, slicing them in halves. It made a perfect cut; the dark wisps of smoke fading in the air are the only proof that an ability from small science was what provoked this.

She doesn't know how long she stays still while admiring the sliced wood, but it must have been good minutes because Kirigan is now impatiently staring at her. "Any thoughts to share?"

"It..." She sighs, still taken aback by the technique. "It's beautiful."

That wasn't what he was expecting. Of course, Katherine has already shown signs of excitement towards the Cut, but this still took the man aback. No one has ever told him that. The Cut has always been a way to make people fear him, being used only for attack and self-defense. The blood it sheds easily frightens enemies like the dr��skelle or others who dare to cross his path. But the witch in front of him isn't scared. No, she is elated, looking at it as if it was the most mesmerizing thing her eyes have ever witnessed.

"Wonderful!" She excitedly faces him. "Are you sure it isn't magic?"

He couldn't hold back the smile, a reflection of the joy evading his body. Finally he is truly being accepted by someone, not having to pretend to be what he isn't. Even after their fight, Katherine willingly came back to him and waited hours to have the opportunity to talk to him alone. She likes his manipulative nature, his power and its lethality, his greatest creation and his dreams. She sat beside him and listened to him, not judging a single part of his past and the choices he has made because of it. She shares everything with him and, instead of cursing him for having some insane plans, she only scolded him and then suggested a better one, a 'more discreet way' to achieve his wishes without ending previous conquests!

Katherine indeed is his true equal, in mind and power. There's no one else in the world that is better than her.

"I am."

She approaches the trees and carefully admires the cleaness of the sliced halves. "It seems so. It's such a powerful ability!"

"Thank you." I guess.

It took almost an hour for the shadow singer to stop asking questions and making observations about the Cut. When she finally straightened her posture and made her way towards Kirigan, he felt a slight twinge of pain at the thought that their conversation was over and so was their deal. The contract has been accomplished by both parts; Katherine is free to go whenever she wants now. However, for what seemed like the nth time of the day, she managed to shock him again.

Her hand is on his face, light green eyes affectionate looking at his dark brown ones. As if to not startle him, she slowly closes the distance between their bodies, a silent warning of her intentions. Both of their gazes fall to each other's mouths and, at the same time, they seal their warm lips together.

The witch lets out a huffed moan as she feels his tongue entering her mouth, and fiercely returns the kiss. The Darkling is fast to clasp her waist and make their bodies collide even more, whilst her hands grip and pull his black hair. The tiny distance that was separating them is now nonexistent. All the old tension between one another is being expressed without words, the crave for each other finally being satisfied.

When breathing becomes a necessity, they break the kiss, panting. Katherine swears that she is about to faint from happiness; her heart is beating so fast that there is no way this isn't a dream. Almost glowing in joy, she looks at the man only to see him with a genuine shining smile.

"You know—", her voice is husky due to the dryness of her throat "I am still waiting for you to explain how your mind changed,��dorogoy."

She can feel Kirigan's hands around her waist going completely still as he hears the affectionate name. Satisfied, she patiently waits for an answer, which is nearly instantly: "That can be arranged, milaya."

However, he doesn't move away to go back to the Little Palace and nor does she. They stay exactly how they are, enjoying each other's company in the peaceful silence. Their foreheads are touching as an assurance for both of them that this is not a dream. This is real, and depending on them, will forever continue to be.

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