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stray-kaz · 1 year

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Twice Wounded : a Mal Oretsev x f!reader oneshot

Summary: You think that what you and Mal have is purely physical and are ready to call it off, until he proves to you otherwise.

Warnings: A bit of 18+. Mostly fluffy angst. Injury and blood. Mal being heroic.

Index: lapushka: Ravkan/Russian for honey, darling, etc.

A/N: I LOVE this. This is one of my favourite things I’ve written.

Sweat slicked and panting, you half shoved Mal off you while you simultaneously rolled away from under him. You turned away as he draped himself over you, kissing a line of stars up the nape of your neck. You shivered and closed your eyes, leaning over to grab the shirt you had discarded earlier and pull it on over your head. His deep voice rumbled in your ear.

“Are you okay, lapushka?”

You curled your hands into fists against your stomach at the sound of that tender word rolling off his tongue, so effortlessly sweet after the hay roll he had just given you. You nodded, but your neck was stiff and he knew you, knew your body, well enough to know that you were lying to him.

You felt him ease back and turned slightly to see him, see that his face had become inscrutable, the shield erected so you couldn’t see the truth of him. But you had been doing that since the start, so why should it bother you?

“Did I hurt you?”

The question came quiet, dark and low, an anxious thread woven through it. And it was then you knew he wasn’t mad, he was afraid he had harmed you in the course of the lovemaking, and that couldn’t be further from the truth. You were just heartsick and tired of lying, to yourself and him.

You knelt on the mattress and held his face between your hands.

“No” you said softly. “You never hurt me, Malyen. I am safe with you.”

His shoulders relaxed and he lay back down, brown eyes focused on your face.

“Then what is it?” he asked, trying to hide a yawn. “Come back to me.”

Heartstrings tugging you back to him inexorably, as always, you slipped back into your trousers before leaning down over him, one hand on his shoulder for balance, and kissing him deeply, surprising him. He grunted and slid a hand up into your hair, twisting it around his fingers and anchoring his palm to the back of your skull. His mouth worked under yours until you felt the same needy ache as before stoke up between your legs, and you made yourself pull away, lips already swollen.

Mal looked up at you, eyes dark and wide, knowing and wanting.

“So” he murmured. “Same time next week, dove?”

You startled, your eyes flashing to his at the use of yet another endearment. Same time next week. Same time, same bed, same man with the boyish grin and chocolate eyes. Chocolate contraband. Same foolish heart beating in your chest.

“Yes, I’ll be here” you told him eventually, and looked away from the grin he offered, his arms now propped behind his head.

“And I’ll be waiting.”

You stood and found your socks and boots, choosing to leave his room before pulling them on, unable to stand for one more moment in his company.

Once fully dressed, you leaned back against the wall, ignoring the curious eyes of an inn servant hustling past you in the corridor. She knew you; in a seaside town this small, it was hard not to. It was also difficult to conceal your own private business from all others, and so most everyone knew about the tall, handsome privateer in the turquoise frock coat who visited with you once every week, without fail, and had done for the last year.

You sighed then pushed away from the wall, head down, your feet leading you to the nearest exit without you needing to look.

As soon as you walked in through your own front door, your mother’s front door, she glanced up toward you, hopeful expression on her face.

“This time?” she asked, gaze flicking down to your hands and the still flat pockets of your trousers.

“No, Ma” you muttered. “He doesn’t pay me.”

She scoffed and went back to her sewing.

“Well, he should” she retorted, ignoring your bruised expression and quiet eyes. “We all know who he is, daughter. The notorious Sturmhond. He has money enough, and more, to pay you for his visits.”

You walked away, thought of slamming your bedroom door, then thought better of it, closing it with a quiet click and collapsing facedown on your bed to dry the tears on your cheeks.

The moment Mal’s boots hit the deck of the flying ship, Tolya was waiting, arms folded across his chest. Mal just looked back at him and waited, knowing what was to come next.

“Have you told her yet?”

“No.”

“Why not, Captain?”

The title was dripping with sarcasm and a little disdain. Mal sighed and scrubbed a hand over his hair, spiking his palm.

“Because it isn’t the right time” he said.

Tolya scoffed.

“You do know how weak that sounds, right? We have been flying here, from wherever we were first, every seven days for fifty two weeks. Your woman has even had a birthday in that time, for which you bought her a very expensive pearl bracelet. Not stole, bought. Not to mention the books you bring her every visit.”

“I didn’t bring her any books this time” Mal mumbled begrudgingly. “And she’s not my woman.”

Tolya shook his head, clicking his tongue in disagreement.

“Whatever you say, Malyen. But I do not believe you.”

“I’ll take that into consideration” Mal muttered as he shouldered past Tolya and made his way belowdecks to his study.

He looked around him at the wall mounted bookshelves, books pressed cover to cover all around the room. All for you.

Mal sank down in the chair behind his desk and groaned, pressing his face into his hands. He hadn’t thought he would ever be able to fall in love after Alina. But that was fate, destiny. This, with you, was a shout across the void, an answering call, and the choice to jump.

Next time, he would wear his wounded heart on his turquoise sleeve and say the words aloud.

Next time.

Next time, Mal grew increasingly frustrated as every person in your town he asked for your whereabouts gave him the same pat answer: you were unwell, and so not to be disturbed, not even to deliver a message. He walked the streets, searching for your familiar face and ignoring the hopeful looks of a few other young women eager for his attention.

You saw him as he strode past your house, on the other side of a narrow curtained window, coat flicking at his ankles like the tail of an angry cat, head on a constant swivel as he looked for you.

You pulled your gaze from him and instead looked down at the pearl bracelet clutched in your hand. It gleamed pearlescent and gold against your skin. It would have cost him no small amount. Maybe it was some sort of payment for your...service? Was that what you did? Did you service the sky pirate Sturmhond, Sankta Alina’s lost love?

You dropped the bracelet on the windowsill and turned away, reaching up to dash furious tears from your cheeks.

You wanted to grab him by his strong shoulders and shake him until he saw you, truly. Until he knew that all those afternoons and mornings under, on top of, beside him, were more than sweat, bliss and time wasted for you.

You wanted to go hoarse from telling him he was loved by you.

You wanted him to say it back.

You wanted him to mean it.

But you had lied to him, persuaded your town to lie to him, and he wouldn’t be back again. You were sure of it.

In spite of all his instincts screaming at him not to bother, Mal returned to your town another week later, but this time, he came as himself, bright coat conspicuously absent and replaced by his old grey greatcoat, warm and familiar to him. Collar turned up to shield his neck from the worst of the chill wind, he again marched through the streets, wary of the eyes that watched him.

“Where are you, lapushka?” he muttered to himself.

In all his hours in this place, he had never been to the beach. The flying ship could wet or dry dock, and he always dry docked it when he visited you.

Mal turned on his heel and moved quickly in the direction of the sea breeze, salt tasted on the air. Maybe his tracker instinct was gone, but he knew you and something told him he was right.

And the second the thick soles of his boots sank into the gritty sand dune, he saw you. The wind tore at your hair, whipping it across your face, but you were determined to read, your shoulders hunched to protect the pages of the book, making him smile. There were a few young Grisha a ways down the beach, practicing. Inferni, from the looks of the fire lashing to and fro between them.

He called your name, but the wind ran away with it, so he trudged over the shifting sands to reach you. Halfway to you, a flicker caught his eye, a flicker that turned into a flame. Mal dodged, his experience with Grisha leading the movement, and it swished past him. Past him to you.

He felt his stomach twist, hard and painful, and he started to run, stumbling on the sand, the fire spreading over your shoulder reflected in his dark eyes, your screams of fear and pain stinging his ears. He finally reached you, almost sick from the sight of the fire eaten meat of your shoulder, Grisha fire burning hotter than ordinary fire.

“No!” he gasped.

No, dove, no.

Mal lifted you bodily off the sand and waded into the sea with you, fell to his knees in the waves so that the cold water would wash over your shoulder, cleansing your burnt flesh. You were limp against him, dead weight, your pulse thready where he pressed two fingers to it. Your eyelids fluttered and you moaned in pain as sea salt entered the wound, abrasive and unkind.

“Malyen?” you murmured, barely moving your lips.

Your fingers curled in the front of his coat, head rolling to his shoulder.

“It’s me, dove. I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you.”

“Why do you call me dove?” you asked, voice a whisper so quiet he had to bend his head to hear.

A flicker of a smile touched his lips.

“Because you fly to me every time, lapushka. My little dove.”

You closed your eyes with a sigh and he grasped your jaw in one big hand, squeezing and shaking gently.

“No, no, no, no, no” he pleaded. “Not you, too.”

He looked wildly over his shoulder in the direction of the Grisha, now watching with hands to their mouths and eyes wide.

“Healer!” Mal roared. “Is there a healer here?”

One of the girls nodded and took off, and he lurched to his feet in the water with you in his arms, and followed.

You woke hours later, time gone missing, in a familiar bed that wasn’t yours and bundled inside a huge greatcoat that definitely wasn’t yours. The room was dim, only a little light allowed in through a crack in the curtains, but you could see a bulky shadow slumped in a chair near the door. You swallowed, your mouth dry as dust.

“Mal?” you croaked, testing your voice.

He jerked awake and was beside you in seconds, warm, strong hands running over your body, from your head to your knees. You closed your eyes. It had only been two weeks, but you’d missed him.

“Are you okay? How do you feel?” he gasped out, his touch lingering on your waist underneath his coat. “A healer came, but there’s a scar. I’m so sorry, dove.”

You were not deaf to the pain in his voice. You sat up and reached out, your hands coming into contact with warm, bare skin, and when you looked down at yourself, you saw that you were also wearing his shirt, buttoned haphazardly up your torso. But instead of shying away from him, you explored further, trailing your fingers over his chest, and he pressed himself into your hands. You splayed your hand over the thick scar that branded his heart, reminiscent of his death.

"I've missed you" you admitted, glancing up into his eyes through the shadows.

His dark eyebrows came together and he frowned.

"Then where were you? And don't tell me you were unwell, because I know that's bull. I waited for you. I searched for you."

You sighed.

"I know. I saw you."

His eyes widened and he turned his head away, wounded.

"Malyen Oretsev" you said softly.

He turned back, but he looked at you with fresh pain. You took a deep breath before beginning.

"I thought you only wanted the physical side of a relationship" you explained, speaking slow and clear. "And I couldn't do that anymore, so I lied to you and asked everyone else to as well."

There was a sweet furrow in his forehead that you wanted to smooth away with your lips.

"What does that mean?" Mal asked, his hands in his lap.

"It means I love you, but I want all of you, not just a few hours snatched once a week."

He stared at you, blinking slowly.

"Do you honestly think I've been dragging this big rig home to you once a week for a whole year just for sex?" he demanded, a slow smile kindling in his eyes and at the corners of his beautiful mouth.

You blinked, shocked by his choice of words.

"Home?" you repeated, quiet.

Mal nodded.

"Yes, you beautiful idiot. Home."

"I'm your home?" you asked, beginning to tremble.

In answer, he surged forward to kiss you, the rasp of his day old stubble on your skin and his rope roughened hands cupping your face. And then he was all you knew and the residual ache in your shoulder faded as he pressed you down into the mattress and sailed you home.

I am PROUD of this. Please comment/reblog.

#mal oretsev #mal oretsev x reader #mal oretsev x female reader #shadow and bone #liss writes

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witchthewriter · 2 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐣 𝐆𝐡𝐚𝐟𝐚'𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I love Inej so much oh my gosh, so this was a tad self-indulgent...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

⭑ Inej has a lot of walls; she doesn’t like to show herself, nor her feelings. So your 5 interactions were just her ... being silent

⭑ And you knew she was aware of everyone in the room. Everything they did, their movements, their voices - hell even their breathing.

⭑ From your own hypervigilance, you could see more than others. You noticed more. And Inej held your attention like no other

⭑ She was beautiful; well with what you could tell. Having seen parts of her face. Even the way she held herself was like no other.

⭑ She noticed you too. But her attention was on your intentions; what did you want, why were you here and what did you intend on doing?

⭑ You were the one that first started a conversation ... well tried to. And you pursued Inej. Only because you wanted to better your life. To higher your station. You came from a lowly neighborhoodd, your family had died in an illness and you wanted to find a home. A safe one, with safe people and a steady income.

⭑ It wasn’t until Helen had scouted you for the Menagerie, that Inej stepped in. She was quite cross with yo, until she learned of your reasoning.

“I have nowhere else to go!” You shouted, tears slipping from your eyes.

“I- I know a place.”

⭑ She took you to Kaz, and he gave you a barkeep job. And you weren’t that good at first (who is?) But over time you learned. Jesper seemed to take a liking to you. You had big emotions and were still learning how to understand them. Sometimes when you got too emotional ... things would happen. Unexplainable things.

⭑ You stayed in one of the rooms above the club. Never making much noise, always being polite and never being late for work.

⭑ You felt safe. Even if you were in a gang. Surrounded by criminals. You didn’t care - you had people.

⭑ The relationship with Inej was grounded in friendship, trust and loyalty. She was your stable person; your rock. And you were someone new - a face that she was yet to open up to. But in time, she did.

⭑ Kaz was distant and most of the time you thought he hated you. But Jesper said “he’s like that with everyone - and if he didn’t want you here ... well you wouldn’t be here.”

⭑ One day you were slumped at the bar, rag over your shoulder as you stared at your feet. The club had closed and no tenant was insight. But you felt like a burden, on everyone. Your thoughts were heavy and showed on your face.

⭑ Inej noticed like she does with most things. And sat gracefully on the stool.

“I don’t think I’ve seen anyone this sad since Jesper lost his goat.”

“Jesper lost a goat?” Your eyes found hers and a smile was already growing on your face.

⭑ Inej liked your smile. And she liked being the reason for it.

⭑ Her feelings slowly grew, but yours were already there. You loved being in her company. Her thoughts were so different from everyone around her.

⭑ One night when the moon was full and high in the sky, you had kissed Inej.

⭑ She didn’t speak to you for two days. But when she saw you, her lips found your own.

⭑ As a significant other Inej is thoughtful and kind. She has a lot of love to give.

⭑ She loves having a person. A safe person; someone she can go to for anything.

⭑ You love giving her gifts, although she tells you not to spend your money on her.

⭑ You two would share a room; and Inej doesn’t own many things but does love to create. She’s great at drawing and her desk is covered in sketches

⭑ You covered the walls with trinkets and maps. Showing Inej how big the world is. On tough days it helped you to know that there were millions of people out there. All living their lives.

⭑ You never touch her daggers; not because you’re afraid of what she would do. Absolutely not. But because you know how special they are to her. You’d only handle them with respect.

⭑ She loves cuddling; although Inej isn’t big into PDA - she loves being close to you when you’re alone.

⭑ You tell each other everything about yourselves; even if you can’t remember things, you’ll quietly whisper them as you walk past each other in the club, or out on the streets.

⭑ You leave her favourite flower on her pillow, hidden in her boots, next to her daggers. You try to make her life more exciting in that way

⭑ Inej sees you as her hope. Her light in the darkness of Ketterdam.

⭑ Jesper would tease the two of you, and he would be met with a firm slap on the arm.

⭑ You hate Helen and do everything to stop yourself from killing her

#shadow and bone #six of crows #inej ghafa headcanons #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa x you #headcanons #shadow and bone headcanons #six of crows headcanons #grishaverse #grishaverse headcanons #grisha #inej ghafa x grisha reader #alina starkov #mal oretsev #the female gaze #witchthewriter #kaz brekker #the crow club #jesper lahey

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ellewritesalright · 1 year

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Fic Requests Are Open

While I finish up Nine Long Years through the next couple of months I am taking requests for shorter fics. I'm doing this to keep myself engaged with writing and also to have some fun!

The fics will probably range from 500-2500 words each. I will write fluff and angst but no smut simply because I am no good at it. They will all be x readers, usually female readers but I will try to write without female pronouns, especially if you request it.

As for characters I will write for, they include:

Nikolai Lantsov (& Sturmhond!Nikolai)

Kaz Brekker

Jesper Fahey

Inej Ghafa

Zoya Nazyalensky

Tamar Kir Bataar

Mal Oretsev

Masterlist

#elle speaks #grishaverse fanfic #not tagging all of them cause it's a lot but also cause i don't wanna flood the tags

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inknopewetrust · 3 years

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Here is the first of many recommendations of my favorite fanfictions. Now, this is not a cumulative list of everything I've ever read, but it is what I've been enjoying most recently or can’t get over, and the ones I immediately believe deserve recognition and further exposure.

I hope those who decide to read these fics enjoy them as much as I have, and to those who I've included, thank you for sharing your gift with this community and continue pursuing your passion.

Golden Cages // @aniqua

Aleksander Morozova x Sun!Summoner Reader x Malyen Oretsev // Firstly, let’s establish one thing: I am not the biggest fan of sun!summoner readers because of the initial reaction to Alina being one originally—but this fic is just *chef’s kiss.* It’s amazing. That’s plain and simple, taken as fact, an honest opinion and I love it. Plus I didn’t think I’d like Mal as much as I do in this?? I am a strictly Darkling girl and that surprised me a lot. A true testament to the writing and how it makes me feel.

Brighter Than the Sun // by @holden-caulfield

Aleksander Morozova x Reader // This is shorter compared to many of the other works on the list, but nevertheless angsty, heartbreaking, and truly invokes a sadness in the readers heart. Good angst writers know how to capture every sense needed to feel tension and truth, to which this author does spectacularly in less than 400 words.

Five Times Olivia Benson Thought She Saw Sparks Fly (Plus the One Time She Saw Them For Herself) // by @hurricanejjareau and @qvid-pro-qvo

Rafael Barba x Gender Neutral Reader // Words cannot describe how much I love this fic. It is so wonderfully written and full of love, longing, and ultimately an adorable resolution. This was one of the first Barba fics I had ever read on here, and it certainly has remained a favorite. It’s a fantastic collaboration between great writers.

I Can’t Hold You Now (And God, it Kills Me) // by @qvid-pro-qvo

Rafael Barba x Reader // I absolutely adore fics that follow canon is some way, shape, or form. As a direct insert into 17 x 10—Townhouse Incident—it feels incredibly natural to the storyline. There isn’t a heavy backstory on the reader and I love it. It’s about the characters, their relationships to one another, and the revelation of reader’s relationship with Rafael. I am just smitten with this fic!

Masterlist // by @thatesqcrush

I know this isn't what is usually on a fanfiction rec list, but ya'll, I have enjoyed ever single fic I've ever read from this author. From Rafael Barba to Bryan Kneef to Nevada Ramirez and more, there are few who write them all exquisitely as she does. So, I couldn't just choose one because I love them all. They're beautifully written, sexy as hell, and leave me wanting more every time I finish reading one. (These are 18+ so don’t go reading unless you’re of age!)

Sham, Pride, and Illicit Affairs // by @peeterparkr

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader // Seriously one of the best, if not the best, Anthony Bridgerton x Reader stories. It is exquisitely written and immediately pulls you in and asking for more. The reader is written in a way that feels natural, a continuation or addition to the story we know rather than an obvious insert. I cannot say enough wonderful words about this fic, so if you are a Bridgerton fan, you have to read this fic!

We'll Meet Again // by @siren-meets // on Ao3

Ronald Speirs (Band of Brothers) x OFC // I have read this story over and over again because it is simply amazing. Eleanor is the perfect OC to pair with Ron; their story is believable, the writing is respectful and flows so well with the episodic drama BoB so gracefully produces. Reading this, you can see the care and love put into the interpretation of each character (which is absolutely spot on), as well as the steadfast effort to make the female OC nothing like we'd expect her to be.

Dance With Me // by @zim-zam-goddamn

George Luz (Band of Brothers) x Reader // This fic is so heartwarming and cute. It's a really great interpretation of how Rick Gomez portrays George Luz, almost exactly what I'd imagine the character to be like if the situation were real. I think that speaks to the testament of how well BoB writers understand the characters and how to further them on the page (or computer, or cellphone, or where ever someone reads fics).

A Punchable Face I Want to Kiss // by @prurientpuddlejumper

Frederick Chilton (Hannibal) x Reader // This entire series is phenomenal. Chilton is a character you shouldn’t like. Irredeemable qualities, malpractice, etc., etc., but 1. Raúl Esparza and 2. this author knows how to make you love the character. It’s masterfully written, incredibly spicy, and full of heart I wasn’t expecting. An Absolutely wonderful series. (Chapter 1 is linked!)

Death of a Bachelor // @delos-mio

Logan Delos (Westworld) x Reader // I read this months ago and still think about it. Its a detailed, original story that I can get behind and it includes an entire trip to a city I hold very near and dear to my heart (it’s so descriptive and accurate too!) Definitely one of my favorite Logan stories written on any of the platforms. Plus Ben Barnes is having a MOMENT right now and Logan is one of my favorite characters of his.

#fanfiction recommendation #fanfiction rec list #x reader #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #shadow and bone x reader #darkling x you #the darkling x reader #band of brothers x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #logan delos x reader #hannibal x reader #bridgerton x reader #westworld x reader #rafael barba x reader #frederick chilton x reader #ronald speirs x reader #george luz x reader #mal oretsev x reader

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elleclairez · 3 years

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The lost Morozova - Nikolai Lantsov x OC x Fedyor Kaminsky

« Everything will be fine Alina. You go to Noviy Zem, and I will fo to Ketterdam so that the Darkling cannot track us. I do hope with all my heart that this isn’t a goodbye and that we will see each other soon. If not I just wish to say thank you, Alina, for being my friend and trusting me and thank you, Mal, for being there for her. I hope to see you both again one day”

Those were the last word Elizaveta has said to her dear friend Alina Starkov before the two had to part ways in order to hide from the Darkling.

The young Grisha did not know how long has it been since she saw the young Summoner or since she left the place she once called home, the Little Palace. Weeks? Months? She wasn’t quite sure. After spending quite some time with Alina on the run and then Mal, the three decided it would be best to part ways so that the Darkling couldn’t find them. Or at least it would take him longer to do it.

Before not so long, Elizabeth Zimaevsky had everything she could want. Her parents were safely living in Noviy Zem, she was a well respected Heartender, right hand to the Darkling and was engaged to the nicest man in the world, Fedyor Kaminsky. And all of this at the young age of 17.

Now she had nothing. She was a deserter, fled her home to save her newly found friend from the man that she considered once a brother, her family must think that she is dead and Fedyor might hate her or worse, has been killed by the Darkling for her betrayal. The latter idea scared her the most.

Her relationship with Fedyor was so easy but complicated at the same time. While Elizaveta wanted power, to be in a high position, Fedyor wanted peace and a calm life. The two were opposites even though both were heartenders and both wanted to help people, just in very different ways.

But the biggest problem was that while Fedyor loved Elizaveta with all his heart and wanted nothing more than to marry her, the young woman loved the man very much, but she always felt like something was missing, ans yet she still agreed to marry him thinking that the gap in her heart would be filled with time.

Back to the present.

Surviving has been difficult especially since she was so used to just demand whatever she needed, and it would be brought to her. But then again, could you blame her, she spent her entire life (well since she was 6) living at the Little Palace which meant that she never had to ask for anything.

But luckily thanks to her training with Botkin she knew how to be sneaky and to blend in a crowd. She learned to survive on stolen money or anything of some worth.

But the young woman had one rule : never steal from the ones in need but only from the rich ones like dukes, merchants, privateers...

On one morning Elizaveta left the tiny room that she was renting to steal some money since her purse was getting too light to her liking.

While walking through the port she saw many people from all around the world. Kerch merchants, Zemeni ambassadors on their way to the capital, Shu travellers.

Two caught her eyes. Siblings by the looks, the first, a man, huge as a mountain and the other, a woman, smaller but Elizaveta knew better, that woman could take down an army if she wanted to. The Heartender understood that those people weren’t to be messed around.

Seeing the two siblings messing with each other reminded her of her old life in the Little Palace. Her teachers that she respected and saw as parents figures, in all honesty she really didn’t know who she’d be without Botkin’s training or Baghra’s guidance. She worried that the Darkling wouldn’t be too merciful towards his mother after finding out that she let the Sun Summoner and the Second Army’s second most important person go. Elizaveta shuddered at the idea of what he could do to her.

She also missed her friends. Genya with whom she could spend hours talking in her chambers, Zoya with whom she loved to travel on missions and have friendly sarcastic feuds that could go for hours, David with whom she would spend hours away in the library in utter silence and yet if you’d ask the two would their dearest friend was the two would say each other’s name in a heartbeat.

And then there was Fedyor.

Elizaveta didn’t spend one day without thinking about the man. Would it be remembering how they’d sneak into masquerade balls and spend the night away dancing and pretending that on the next morning they wouldn’t have to be soldiers again instead of a young couple.

The two grew up together, even with their 3-year difference, the two were inseparable since Elizaveta was 10 and no one could keep them apart since that day. The friendship then turned into romance on her 14th birthday and then into an engagement just a few months ago on the woman’s 17th birthday.

The Heartender remember the last time she saw him. It was at the royal ball, Fedyor was to be sent away, and so they spend the evening dancing together and while the man was thinking that their last kiss was a “see you soon” one, Elizaveta wasn’t sure if she’d ever see him again.

The same thoughts troubled her mind all the time.

Did he hate her ? Did the à Darkling kill him ? Did he run away ? The woman didn’t know and that lack of information killed her. Yes Fedyor was a orpichnik but unlike Ivan, the Darkling didn’t favour him and wasn’t happy when he heard that his right hand chose him as her future husband. The Darkling always said that she was meant for greater things than marrying “a simple commoner”. Why did he say that? She didn’t know. She never understood why the powerful man trusted her, even cared for her the same way Baghra seemed to care for her as she was family.

Her thoughts were quickly distracted when a man caught her eyes.

He was quite handsome but something felt wrong about him. His red hair seemed out of place, his nose too broken, and yet she couldn’t stop herself from looking at him.

She stopped her thoughts from wandering too far and focused on his attire. By the clothes Elizaveta guessed that the man was clearly a pirate which meant that he had money. Which meant that he was the perfect victim?

Sneakily like a cat, she got close to the man and waited for the right moment to snatch his wallet that was in his coat pocket. The right moment came when someone bumped into him and that is when the woman went into action, she took the wallet from his coat and walked away as calmly as she could while blending in the crowd to not seem suspicious.

That was easier than she thought, way too easy even. A good pirate would have caught her the second she got close to him.

A few minutes later, Elizaveta was happily counting the money that she stole, walking back to the little building where she was living, tiredness taking over her.

Not using her powers can be dangerous for a Grisha, you become more tired, the natural glow that all Grisha disappear and the natural beauty that the Grisha have become almost invisible. Without using her power Elizaveta looked to pale, her hair didn’t shine as they used, she looked almost sickly and honestly she felt as terribly as she looked. Her head was pounding, and she knew that she needed to lay down as soon as she could before she fainted on the street.

But suddenly someone yanked the young Heartender in an alleyway and pushed her into a wall, hands on both her arms holding her in place. Before she could even react or scream a sweet, voice whispered in her ear.

“As much as I respect anyone who can outsmart and steal from me, I would love for you to give me back what’s mine, golubushka.” The voice sweet as honey but strong as steel at the same time, it held a power that it felt like a storm crashing over the woman. Never was Elizaveta caught, and she didn’t know what to do. Using her powers could be dangerous since people were looking for her, but she knew that she couldn’t fight him hand to hand, she was too weak right now and the hit that her head took wasn’t helping.

The man moved his face from her ear and looked at her face.

He was even more handsome up close but again something didn’t feel right. She couldn’t name what was wrong, but she could definitely tell that the man’s face hid a secret. His eyes were what caught her attention the most. They were a strange muddy green and again she felt like those eyes didn’t belong on that face. They were beautiful Weirdly enough Elizaveta didn’t what she wanted to do more, punch the man and run or kiss him. What was wrong with her?! That hit on the head must have been way too hard on her because otherwise she wouldn’t be thinking such things.

For a second the man’s eyes travelled under her face, to her neck, and suddenly the man stilled, his right hand let go of her arm and took the necklace that was around her neck. She didn’t understand what was going on. Surely as a pirate the man must have seen plenty of jewels so why would an old simple necklace make him stop threatening her, or whatever he was doing.

But before she could do anything the man spoke again. And the words that came of his mouth were certainly unexpected.

“Elizaveta?”

She wanted to answer. Ask her how did he know her but suddenly the world around became all dark, and she could only feel herself falling but two strong arms caught her in time.

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heliads · 2 years

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Hoaxes and Hearts

Based on this request: “AU one-shot where Maze Runner characters are in Shadow & Bone. The pairing is Newt x female reader. Minho is Alina Starkov. Thomas is Mal Oretsev. Y/N L/N is Kaz Brekker. Teresa is Inej Ghafa. Newt is Jesper Fahey. He is Y/N’s boyfriend and a member of the Crows. Gally is the Darkling. Brenda is Genya Safin. Jorge is the Conductor.”

masterlist / part two

You are sitting with your back against the wall, wondering if you’re about to make a terrible choice. It takes a lot to survive in the Barrel, and even more to run it like you do. They call you Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel, the one person who’ll probably be ruling hell when they finally make it there themselves.

The other two people around the table, though, just call you Y/N. They’re your gang, the only two people you’ve got the nerve to trust in an entire city full of traitors and liars. What’s funny is that you three are the worst of that lot by far, yet you’ve called for them and only them because they’re the ones who will actually watch your back instead of plunging a dagger into it.

They’ve been on countless jobs with you, yet for some reason you hesitate now, before you have to explain the latest task before you and ask them to sign away their lives yet again. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve done the impossible together, but this one is riskier than all the others.

You look at them now, your favorite Dregs. Newt’s watching you candidly; he’s never had to hide his gaze, not with you. You’ve yet to see him turn down a dare if his friends are involved, but his fingers still idly tap on the pearl-handled revolvers at his sides. He’s a good shot, possibly the best there is.

You’re going to need your sharpshooter tonight, you know that. Still, you don’t like the thought of risking his life on a hopeless crusade. Newt was a good kid, once, a farm boy who grew up taking shots in between towering rows of corn and tomatoes instead of dodging criminals and convicts like the rest of you. Were it not for the fact that the payout for this job could make all of you kings and queens, you’d never ask Newt to do a job with this many faults. The thought of seeing him finally at peace, eyes closed and heartbeat gone, fills you with far more dread than it should.

Beside Newt, Teresa stares out the window, searching for someone she knows she’ll never find. You’ll need your Wraith in this job, too, and especially tonight. Teresa deals in secrets, and knows just about everything on just about anyone, yet no matter how hard she searches, she never hears about the one person she wants to find most of all.

You brought Teresa out of an indentured servitude from a brothel down the block, the Menagerie. Since then, she’s been nothing if not loyal, but you can tell that her focus always shifts back to those darker days if she’s not careful.

One time, she told you about a boy she’d left behind there, a boy named Thomas. She thought she could get him out, and he thought she was betraying them to Ava Paige, the head of the Menagerie. He ran and never forgave her, and Teresa has been trying to find him again ever since.

These two are your right and left hands, the backbone of your gang. As much as you hate to admit weakness, you wouldn’t be where you are today without them. Now, you’re asking them to risk their lives on a foolish quest that nobody would look at twice.

Nobody, that is, except Dirtyhands.

There is no more time to prolong the inevitable, so you fix each of them with a steely gaze. “There’s an opportunity coming up. Dangerous, but the payoff will be more than anything we’ve ever done before.”

Newt arches an eyebrow. “You say that as if it’s meant to dissuade us. Dangerous just means fun.”

Teresa leans forward. “You’ve never warned us about danger before. What happened?”

A muscle in your jaw clenches and you have to force yourself to relax before continuing on. “I was warned to stay away before we even had this conversation by Janson.”

Newt inhales sharply. He knows just as well as you do what Janson’s warnings mean. Janson is the head of your rival gang, W.I.C.K.E.D., and he’s notoriously brutal, perhaps even more than you. What’s more, your conflict with him is personal, although you don’t think Janson remembers.

You were a kid when W.I.C.K.E.D. screwed you over, just a kid. They said they could help you survive in this sort of world, that you could make a difference and make choices the right way. To a bunch of kids who were too young to bear half the weight on their shoulders, it sounded perfect.

You managed to get away when the Queen’s Lady plague spiked and everyone was forced inside. It took your brother from you, though, and made you swear to get your revenge on Janson one day. He could have helped, and instead he made all of you monsters. For that, he will pay. You won’t rest until he does.

Newt knows this, and he knows what Janson warning you away means. “You’re not backing down, are you?”

You shake your head once, decisive. “No. The rest of you can, though.”

Newt laughs. “You don’t actually think we’re going to leave you on this, right? I’m in, all the way. Should be fun at any rate.”

You give him a look, but before you can challenge this, Teresa nods as well. “If Janson tried to warn you away, it means the job’s more important than he cares to let on. He always has his reasons for doing things, and I want to know his motives.”

That’s Teresa for you, you suppose, always in it for the secrets, the knowledge. You can’t say you blame her- you’ve been thinking about this very job ever since you heard about it.

Newt taps absentmindedly on the table in front of him. “So, what’s the job, anyways? I haven’t heard any talk in the whole place, so it must be secretive.”

You nod once. “Secretive and recent. Rumor has it that we need to find a way to cross the Shadow Fold by midnight tonight.”

Teresa blows out a low breath. “That’s almost impossible.”

Newt chuckles to himself. “Nothing we do is impossible. I’ve even seen Y/N smile.”

You roll your eyes. “Much of the job sounds like a hoax, anyways. Were it not for the massive payoff, I’d think they were trying to make fools of us. They want us to find the Sun Summoner. He’s a boy named Minho, and they want him brought here.”

Teresa’s eyes widen. “The Sun Summoner has been spotted?”

You hold up a hand to stave off her excitement. Teresa has always believed in morals, ethics, that there is a sense of right and wrong, and in a world like this, those take the places of the Saints. The Sun Summoner is another one of her stories, but you see it as nothing more than an excuse to let people push their problems off to the future, hoping that some mythical hero will come to save them.

Nobody is saving you, though, just yourself. “I wouldn’t get too interested. It’s likely a fake, some boy waving a torch that made people lose their minds. At any rate, it’s a job.”

Newt smirks. “Always the optimist, aren’t you, Y/N? You hear about a Saint come to live with us and you call him a party trick.”

You fold your hands over the crow’s head cane at your side. “I’ll believe in the Saints when they deliver me salvation from their very own glowing hands. Until then, I believe in what money can do for us, and this job’s got a better chance at that than any amount of miracles.”

Teresa wants to argue with this, but eventually the three of you leave your office at the top of the Slat in search of answers. Crossing the Shadow Fold is damn near impossible; doing it with a kidnapped Sun Summoner will be even harder. You’ll need your own way across, something no one has been able to accomplish in all the centuries since the mass of shadows split Ravka in two.

You do find something, eventually, thanks to a liar in the Crow Club. There’s a man here who goes by the name of the Conductor. Teresa finds him first, and after dodging Ava Paige’s desires to get the guy working for her or dead, you question him long enough to find out his motives.

The Conductor, as it turns out, is a middle-aged man graying at the seams. He calls himself Jorge, and despite the fact that you can’t tell whether or not he’s entirely playing at the tough madman look, you think you’ll be able to get him to work.

You can tell he’s hiding something, though, and after a few more words are discussed Jorge confesses why he’s been so invested in finding a way across the Fold. There’s a girl in East Ravka, he says, Brenda. She’s technically a Corporalnik, but she had the strange ability to alter people’s faces instead of stopping their hearts. She was a friend of Jorge’s, but he hasn’t seen her since she was taken to the Little Palace. He’s heard terrible rumors of greedy kings and jealous queens, and hopes to find a way to get her out or at least make sure she’s alright.

Eventually, you, Newt, Teresa, and Jorge set out for the Fold. Jorge has a clunker of a train ready for you, and after Newt manages to come up with some alabaster coal to power the thing, you’re on your way over to Ravka.

After many tense discussions, some within Jorge’s range of hearing and some outside, you form a plan. It had been brewing in the back of your mind for a while, the scraps of something that could work, but now you know for sure that it will. At least, you can hope. Few things truly go according to plan, and on a job like this, all bets are off.

You and Teresa are inside the Ravkan palace now, watching the Winter Fete progress. You have yet to see Minho, but that’s no guarantee. The Grisha have likely kept their Sun Summoner safe until the last minute, too afraid of what kinds of people would come looking for him. People like you, for example. Monsters and thieves.

Newt is somewhere outside, arranging a quick method of escape. He’d complained at this in the beginning, that he was so removed from the fight. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it’s because you cannot stand to lose him, and at least one of you should get the chance to run if things go south.

Murmurs begin to drift through the room, spreading like wildfire until voices seem to cascade from every corner and stairwell.

You nod at Teresa. “This should be it. Stay close and stay wary.”

Across the room, two figures emerge from a distant hallway. One is dressed in white, and she matches the description Jorge gave you- this must be Brenda. She looks anxiously at the boy in front of her, the one pushing recklessly through the crowd as if he couldn’t care less about what rich noblemen thought of him.

Minho, the Sun Summoner. He walks to the stage after conversing with a few other Grisha. You don’t know what to make of him; this boy wears his heart on his sleeve, and doesn’t bother hiding a single one of his emotions. He doesn’t seem the type to pull an elaborate hoax on everyone present, wouldn’t try and convince everyone that he’s a rare and powerful Etherealnik few have even heard of, but appearances can be deceiving.

The lights in the room dim, and Minho spreads his hands. His eyes flash, and sunlight begins to pour from his hands. A proud smirk lodges itself firmly into his expression, and you get the feeling that this boy is not the type to doubt himself. He’d run himself into the ground if he thought it meant protecting those he cared about; either that, or let his power run wild into the world if it abandoned him.

Sunlight fills the room, ricocheting off of every corner and wall. Beside you, Teresa clasps a hand to her heart, almost to the point of tears. She whispers something in your ear about how she’s never felt something like this in a long time. You would beg to differ, though. This sort of warmth, this feeling of never having to be alone- you feel it every morning when you see Newt. He is the precise shade of light that is currently being draped across the halls, and even if he’s technically outside preparing the carriage, when Minho spreads his arms you can practically feel Newt standing next to you.

Teresa looks stunned and amazed, but you just think about what this means. The Sun Summoner is real, Minho just proved himself, and that means you need to get on with the plan. You and Teresa wait until Minho steps from the stage and escapes from the quickly arriving crowd of supporters to make your move.

You’re supposed to pose as guards and pretend that you’re going to usher him to dinner, but the second you and Teresa try to get Minho anywhere a new figure shows up, this one clad in robes of black. Gally has been general of the Second Army for some time now, although he’s long been plagued by a deadly nickname. The Darkling, come to ruin you all just like his ancestor did long before.

Gally nods brusquely at the two of you. “I’ll take over. We need to discuss the war.”

You’ve heard rumors from offended serving staff that Gally and Minho get on far better than they should. Although Minho’s supposed to be a paragon of hope and sunlight, he’s apparently shown himself to be far more brutal than most saints. That’s where he gets along with Gally, at any rate. They seem to be rather wary friends, but it’s a friendship that makes Fjerda and Shu Han tremble with fear.

Minho heads away with Gally before you and Teresa can say another word, both Grisha talking in low voices. Their faces are twisted with something dark, something like a need for vengeance. You’ve seen it on your own face too many times to count.

Teresa looks nervous, but no matter. All plans were made to change. You follow the two Grisha out, hoping to catch Minho when Gally is brought away by another matter.

As it turns out, that won’t happen. Minho all but disappears- you can’t find him anywhere, and neither can Teresa, which surprises you. Eventually, you’re forced to retreat back to Newt’s side, although he seems strangely pleased about the whole matter. He refuses to say a word on it, though, not until the next day dawns and the carriage stops.

Newt proudly opens the trunk of the carriage to reveal one startled, wary Sun Summoner. You look slowly from Minho, who’s crawling out of the carriage with his hands raised in warning, then back to Newt, who looks as pleased as if he’s just been named the world’s best sharpshooter.

“This is why you looked so proud of yourself?”

Newt just smirks. “Hey, I did my job. That makes one of us, by the way.”

You deliver your best cutting glare, but it just makes Newt’s smile grow.

Minho coughs pointedly. “Who are you people, and why are you looking at me like I’m some sort of prize money?”

You fold your hands on top of your crow’s head cane. “Probably because you are. We know you’re the Sun Summoner.”

Minho’s face darkens. “Then you know I won’t hesitate to take all of you down.”

Newt’s hands drift towards his guns, but you hold up a hand. “That doesn’t have to happen. You’re running, aren’t you?”

You recognize the strained look on Minho’s face, the way he keeps glancing around as if in search of a way out. We all look like this in the Barrel, we all keep our weight on our toes and measure our futures in how quickly they can be escaped. Wouldn’t it be something to get away with this job after all?

Minho looks surprised that you managed to figure this out, so you keep going. “You’re in need of protection, a place to belong. We can give you all of that. All we ask is that you hold off on blinding us for a little while. It’ll be hard to outrun all of the Darkling’s Grisha, won’t it? You know his ruthlessness firsthand. Use yours to escape him. Come with us.”

Minho wavers, but eventually shakes his head. “I need to find a friend of mine.”

You arch a brow. “We’re rather good at finding people. Come with us, maybe we can track him down together.”

Minho’s gaze shutters. “Sounds like you’re trying to kidnap me, which I am very much against. Thomas is already looking for me, and he can find his way anywhere, out of any trap.”

Teresa gasps. It’s one of the first times you’ve seen her truly shaken. “Did you say your friend’s name was Thomas?”

Minho frowns. “Yeah, we’ve known each other for years. I can’t even remember what life was like before he joined us at the orphanage.”

Teresa looks thunderstruck. If this is her Thomas, then she’s going to want to keep Minho close so she can find her friend once more.

Minho seems to realize this, and raises his hands higher. “I’m not going to say it again. Let me go or else.”

Enough is enough. You start to move forward, as does Newt. You need to finish the job. Minho flinches at the movement and brings his hands together. A wave of sunlight bright enough to scorch your retinas cascades from him, forcing you to look away lest you be blinded outright. When you look up again, even half a moment later, Minho is gone.

You curse. “Fan out. We need to find him.”

Newt’s already shaking his head, confirming the truth that you don’t want to hear. “He’s gone, Y/N. We need to figure out what we’re going to do, not center around him.”

You nod. “Jorge stayed at the Palace, something about how he needed to stay for Brenda. He’s either with her or captured, and we can’t afford to waste time waiting for him. We need a new way to cross the Fold.”

It’s an impossibility, and all three of you know it. A heavy silence descends upon the camp, which only worsens as darkness grows. Teresa retreats inside an abandoned barn you’d found along the path. She hasn’t been the same since she heard Thomas’ name; it’s like she’s been reminded of a thousand memories, all of which she never thought she’d have again.

Newt, on the other hand, has only seemed more and more irritated since Minho gave you the slip. Eventually, his constant pacing wears on you, and you turn to him at last.

“What’s giving you such trouble? Either figure it out or put a stop to it, I’m sick of your worrying.”

Newt laughs, although the sound is far from pleasant. “Such kind words from our leader.”

You raise a brow. “I have never been kind, Newt. Don’t go looking for what you know I won’t show.”

Newt raises his hands to the sky as if silently pleading with the Saints to give him a better shot. “And you seem to revel in it, too. Honestly, would it kill you to show some emotion for once?”

You give him an unimpressed look. “I’m disappointed that the job didn’t go according to plan. Happy?”

Newt makes a face. “Delighted. Have you ever cared about anyone other than yourself, or is that all just a joke, too?”

You look over at him, attention now fully turned towards the conversation. “That was an abrupt change. Something on your mind?”

Newt glances towards the barn, where Teresa still remains inside. “Teresa just found out that the one person who matters most in her life might be within arm’s reach. We just lost our way home, and all you can think about is that you might miss out on the money.”

You consider the night sky before you, somehow unable to meet his gaze. “One of us has to think about the rational things. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

Newt sighs, running a hand through his golden hair. “Why am I even on this team? Why do you still keep me around? Don’t tell me there’s something rational about that too.”

You walk a few paces over to him. “Why are you bringing this up now? I hired you because you were a good investment, someone I could trust. That’s rare. I keep you here because you’ve proven yourself time and time again.”

Newt nods, although he doesn’t seem any happier. “Not because you enjoy my company? Because we’re friends?”

You scoff and look away, but Newt continues. This time, his voice is softer, as if he’s afraid. “I found out something about your files. You’ve only been hiring people who are immune to the Queen’s Lady plague. Teresa’s immune, Jeff’s immune, everyone is. Everyone except me. Why am I here, Y/N? Why go to all that trouble for some guy who doesn’t fit your standards?”

A sudden burst of rage spikes through you, too hot to stamp out. “Am I not allowed to have my secrets? Can’t you just respect me making my decisions for what is best for the Dregs?”

Newt shakes his head. “Not when it means you don’t care about me. What am I, anyway? A throwaway, someone you can risk on dangerous jobs because it won’t matter if I get out or not?”

You rear back, stunned. “Newt, the one reason you’re here is because I care too much about you. The rational thing to do would be to have never hired you in the first place. Everyone’s immune because I cannot stand losing a single other person, not to the plague. I can protect us from that, but I can’t protect you. You’re still here because I cannot bear to lose you. It is risky, and dangerous, and the worst sort of weakness, but I cannot lose you, Newt. That’s why.”

You take a harsh breath, swear you can feel it rattling in your lungs. Newt looks taken aback. “You care about me?”

You step away, unable to face him. “Too much so, yes.”

You hear the sound of footsteps and distantly wonder if he’s running away, so sick of you that he can’t bear to be around you anymore.

Then he’s in front of you, reaching for you, kissing you, and you cannot think about anything else but you and him and how good it feels to kiss him after all of this time.

Newt breaks away, laughing slightly in spite of himself. “You could have said that a little sooner, you self-sacrificing idiot.”

You reach out to tap him on the chest, right above the heart. “You shouldn’t call the leader of your gang an idiot. I’m known to kill people who displease me.”

Newt smirks, kisses you again. “I’d like to see you try.”

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @lxncelot, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42

requested by @thornyrose463, who also made this moodboard!

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

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Little Witch - Part 22

The Darkling x Reader

'The General is busy' Ivan stood blocking the door, not letting you through. His red silk kefta stood out like a warning sign in the dead of the hallway and his face a stony expression but you didn't miss the slight tinge of a condescending grimace.

'Ivan move away from the door.'

'The General wished to not be disturbed.'

'Ivan I could eat you for breakfast. Now move for your Deputy.' Whether it was your assertion of dominance, the copious amounts of alcohol in your system, or the firey shadows erupting from your hand, Ivan moved away from the door, defeated. You were done playing nice and done playing the diplomat. You were taking the evening off.

The doors were pushed wide open with a mere flick of your fingers, quickly meeting Aleksander's gaze already set on you. No doubt there was no need for such a dramatic entrance, but as you said, you were taking the evening off, Deputy Y/L/N has retired for the night. Y/N is here to play now and she doesn't fight fair.

There was someone right in front of him, a dirty and ragged First-Army soldier. If it weren't for the soldier's slight bow of the head in your direction, you would've guessed you walked in on a pissing contest.

'Hello Soldier'

'Deputy Y/L/N'

'You know who I am'

'Of course'

You smiled and looked at Aleksander, inspecting his face for any sign of emotion but all you were met with was a clenched jaw. 'The Stag?' A map of Ravka lay open next to him on the table but there was no indication on it of a precise location.

'Mr.Oretsev is bargaining. He won't give up the location if not for a meeting with our Sun-Summoner.' Oretsev. As in Mal Oretsev, Alina's tracker?

'And have you started to vet him? Cause from what I can see you're just standing here.'

His hands balled into fists at his side and he quickly moved past the tracker to you, grabbing your elbow tightly and dragging you out of the room and into the adjacent drawing-room. You shrugged him off just as roughly and shut the doors.

'Is this how you treat your second in command?' You brushed off your kefta, adjusting the sleeves.

'I'm getting really tired of you trying to show me up'

'Well I'm sorry I'm naturally more intimidating than you.'

Y/N and Aleksander were completely different from Deputy Y/L/N and General Kirigan. For as long as you could remember, you both kept work and life separate but now things somehow changed. The dynamics were shifting in nobody's favor. You unknowingly kept prodding for dominance which never happened before. Years ago, you were happy to listen to Aleksander, to do as he said, to go to sleep cuddled into his side having forgotten the workday, to put aside the orders he gave that didn't sit well with you. But now you craved to call the shots and he seemed to notice too.

'What do you want? I really do not have time for this.' He started pacing the room impatiently.

'Oh pray tell what is it that's so pressing? You can't get the location out of him without Alina finding out about the letters. Your lies are going to catch up with you' Didn't I tell you so.

'Can you not even pretend to be helpful?'

'No' You pursed your lips and crossed your arms.

'Have you spoken to the Queen?' He stopped pacing and waited for your answer, obviously eager to hear what the Tsaritsa had to say but despite the heartiness of the situation, you chose to stay quiet.

'No, I didn't.'

'Then do your job Deputy.' With that he swung open the door and walked out, the tension visible around him and palpitating as he strode out of view with Ivan trailing him. There it was, his small yet effective remark to remind you of your place. It was as if overnight he came to the conclusion that you were after his Grisha and was making it known you were just a Deputy and he was Aleksander Morozova, the Black Heretic and it angered you beyond reason.

*****

You found yourself right back next to Zoya with another drink in your hand. Although you felt it hitting you and relaxing all the muscles in your body, your mouth was glued shut when it came to spilling out all your problems for a shoulder to lean on.

'Zoya have you ever been proposed to?' You didn't know why you asked, but it slipped out. You could see her momentarily freeze but she covered it well with a flick of her ebony hair.

'All the time. Have you seen me? But it's always the poor and useless ones. The good ones don't want a weapon, they want a housewife'

'Wise words spoken by an even wiser woman'

'I accept credit where it's given' You both laughed and went back to meaningless conversation. Had you known when you arrived at the Little Palace that the sneering Squaler would become one of your closest friends and trusted soldiers, you would've laughed. She was still vexing and shrewd but behind all the remarks, you saw the true Zoya and you liked her.

She was very guarded, her walls built up so high from years in the Second-Army but sometimes her facade slipped. It would be the faintest look of sorrow on her face or a slight pause in her voice that would catch you off guard, slowly letting you piece together who Zoya really was. You had already come to a conclusion; she was the best damn soldier Ravka had ever seen and no doubt will amount to great things. Her fire burned bright and fervid and that's all it takes to be and do good.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see one of the Inferni twins following an oprichniki with a suspicious gaze. The alcohol might've been enough to dull your senses, but your job was still to protect the Palace and so you hastily excused yourself and followed the two from a distance. No doubt you caught the attention of many people as your gown trailed behind you and drew unnecessary attention. You looked ahead of the Inferni and studied the guard, noticing a limp. Now that you thought of it, you could've sworn the same guard had briefly conversed with a female guard too, one strikingly similar to the silks artist that dangled down next to the stairs. You shot a brief glance toward the staircase and sure enough, the silks were there but they were empty. Intruders.

You pursued the two men, noting their direction toward the chapel but another oprichniki suddenly blocked your way.

'Deputy, The General requests your presence right away.' The guard stood in front of you, the panic so vivid on his face it sobered you up substantially.

'What's the matter?' Your voice was short and annoyed as you watched the blue kefta disappear from your line of sight.

'We caught an intruder trying to escape after murdering Marie. The General thinks it is the conductor' At this you froze and your eyes widened twice their size. You suddenly felt a pang of guilt as Marie's name was mentioned. You were in charge of Marie and Alina, and if you had just done your job tonight instead of being in your head then maybe Marie would've been alive.

'And where was Genya Saffin?'

'She fought him off as much as she could but he fired at her'

'Saints' You were mad now. Not only was this man killing Grisha in their home, but he was the conductor. You had read Nina Zenik's reports about him, but knowing he somehow penetrated the walls of the Palace you had so tirelessly tried to fortify angered you beyond compare. The limping man, the silks artist, now this.

'Was he alone?'

'Seems so, Ivan and Zoya are interrogating him now, they wish for you to accompany them.'

'I'll be down momentarily, but for now come with me.' You nodded him to follow you as you hurried to the chapel not giving him a second to object. The noise of the party fizzled out, no foreign dignitary finding it appealing to pray to the Saints at this hour.

Your joined steps echoed through the golden halls and your heart rate picked up. This evening was turning sideways really quickly, maybe you shouldn't have had all those drinks. Maybe you should've told Aleksander about your predicament. Maybe you should have stayed with Marie instead. So many maybes.

You directed more guards your way as you walked, all of them silently obeying your command and not speaking. If you were right, the whole Palace was compromised and you would need reinforcements.

'You three head that way, I'll take this door.' You pointed down the hallway and turned into the door to your left. The chapel was silent and peaceful. The candles were all lit, begging to be witness to prayer, but the room itself screamed danger.

You listened for a heartbeat, felt the air for a body, but came up empty-handed. Still, you couldn't shake that strange creep of unease. Your feet took you behind the altar and between the pews, where with a gasp and a curse, you found the Inferni's body dead and surrounded in a puddle of his own blood. The gash in his head was obviously made with a knife, but the remnants of the blade were gone.

The rage flew through you like a ghost in a graveyard. A Grisha was murdered in a chapel. It felt like both a personal attack and an attack on all Grisha living in the Little Palace. The Inferni lying dead at your feet was killed in his home, murdered in the home of his Saints. You needed to find Aleksander and tell him. You needed to get the King and Queen out of here even though that would be the last thing you wanted to do.

But as soon as you found Aleksander in the courtyard facing Baghra, that unease turned into outright fear. Aleksander loved his mother, but the way he looked at her right now spoke the opposite of love. He always had doubts about her, always assumed she was scheming but she rarely ever acted. The fear pushed you to assume she definitely did something.

'What is it?' You were shivering, the bottom of your gown ruined now with dry leaves and dirt clinging to it as you made your way to the two. 'What have you done Baghra?' So much has already gone wrong.

She looked at you with a smirk, a smile that yelled in triumph 'I won' but uttered no words. You turned to Aleksander for an explanation. The shivering now chattering your teeth and turning your lips blue.

'Alina is gone, the tracker is dead'

All the air in your lungs vanished as your hands unknowingly went to wrap around the old woman's throat. 'You wretched old witch. How could you do this' Your words dripped in venom so vast it made you wince. She didn't respond to your assault in the slightest, just kept that condescending grin stuck on her lips.

You felt his hands grasping at your arms, roughly pulling you back from his mother and your chokehold. 'Y/N stop it' You didn't care about Alina too much, but purposely doing all of this to pull you and Aleksander off the rails was like a thorn in your side that never got pulled out in 98 years.

'Are you the one who killed the Inferni in the chapel too? Or the one who let intruders into my Palace? Huh? ANSWER ME' You pushed his arms away from you and ignored his questioning look. Baghra still said nothing, just shook her head as if in pity. 'Every time you leave that damn hut you cause nothing but trouble'

Taking a step back and then another, you forced yourself to walk to the dungeons to interrogate the conductor not caring if Aleksander followed you or not. If you didn't leave, you would've surely killed her.

-------

Part 23

Masterlist

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa @toujurspure

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