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myeur-n · 10 months

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Imagine that Sturmhond reveals himself as Prince Nikolai Lantsov, but you couldn't accept it

Disclaimer:

This oneshot is purely based on the Netflix series, so some of the lore might be incorrect

y/n is a female Grisha

Angst/Fluff

"Captain, are you sure that the Saint is stable enough to cross the fold?" y/n approached the captain's table and crossed her arms before him. The Volkvolny was beginning to rumble from the calling of the Fold, and as a Materialki, you weren't really fond of how the wooden planks of the ship you had invented with your Captain begun to stir.

"Y/n, how many times have I asked you to address me by Sturmhond?" The blonde and blue-eyed privateer snickered at you, leaning back against his cushioned chair and crossing his legs. You remained silent and only had a concerned look crossing your features. "Come on, then. Call me by my name then I shall answer you," he added and began beckoning you toward him.

"Alright... Sturmhond. Now answer me," you rolled your eyes. "You know how terrified I am of the Fold. If I get caught by one of the Volcra in there, I'll be demanding that you pay for my health insurance even if I'm dead,".

"I would expect no less from you," he pulled a soft smile at your direction, which almost warmed your heart - almost. You shook your head as he stood up from his chair and stood next to you.

"It'll be alright, y/n. Alina's strong enough with her amplifier. You'll be safe, I can promise you that," he muttered, casting a soft smile at you before he climbed the stairs to the upper deck.

"No doubt he's about to show off the Hummingbird," you rolled your eyes and tailed him.

Before you knew it, you were suddenly up in the air and reaching the entrance of the Fold. You looked up at the abyssal storm, growling and calling before your very eyes. Quickly turning around, you saw that only a few of the Volkvolny crew, including yourself and your captain; the Saint herself and her lover were aboard the Hummingbird.

Alina Starkov looked back at the Fold with a determined glare, while Mal's eyes were clouded with his usual protectiveness. Before you could turn to look at Sturmhond, he had already crossed the ship's deck and stood by your side, linking your arms tightly with his.

"It's going to be alright. You don't have to be scared," he mumbled in a low voice, almost to himself. You could hear the slight tremble in his voice, and you knew you weren't alone in this consuming fear - he felt the same way too.

"Sturmhond," you turned your wrists so your palms could capture his. "I trust you," you nodded once before turning back at the starless sky as darkness consumed your surrounding.

Both of you gasped, but held each other tight. The Fold was pitch black and cold - colder than the sea breeze at night. Your mind suddenly travelled to what you could do as a Grisha. You were just a Materialki - a person who could manipulate earth and steel - but, what use is that when it comes to something as powerful as the darkness?

Suddenly, a blinding white light filled your eyes and it came from the Saint.

Sturmhond's blue eyes filled with marvel and wonder, and your heart ached to see them as you realised that he could never look at you the same way he looked at Alina's beautiful sunlight. You pursed your lips and slowly attempted to loosen your grip of his hand, but it won't move a muscle.

You closed your eyes and hoped that this would end soon.

As no light could pierce your eyelids, you thought that the worst is over, but only found that Alina was gasping for air and could not summon the sunlight anymore. Mal rushed to her side to protect her from the Darkness of the Fold, while Sturmhond quickly removed your hands from his and grabbed his pistol.

You rushed to the front of the Hummingbird and placed your hands on the engine of the ship, forcing the gears to work harder so everyone could get out of the Fold quickly. Some of the crew members screamt as they were grabbed by the Volcra and fell to their death.

You panicked as one of the Volcra almost snatched you into the air, but you had quickly picked up a crowbar and shifted it into a sword before slicing it into half.

"Now, that's my lady!" Sturmhond shouted from across the deck as he continued shooting the beasts. You rolled your eyes and with your last effort, you pushed the engines to their limit before they gave out one last revolution and ceased their turning.

And all of you were so close to getting out of the Fold.

"Brace! Brace for impact!" You shouted loud enough for everyone to hear as you shut your eyes hard and focused your abilities to the front of the ship, bending the round-edged wood to become sharp-edged, so that as they land on the ground, it would pierce the dirt and lessen the damage on the Hummingbird. Sturmhond wasn't going to let it go if she had let his precious invention turn into ruin.

The ship dug into the dirt of East Ravka and slid across the grass. Everyone let out a whelp as their knees collapsed from the impact. You exhaled a large breath and wiped a sweat from your forehead. It was definitely hard to use the small sciences without looking at what you're about to change.

Tamar and Tolya were the first to cheer, while Sturmhond quickly ran over to you.

"Are you alright? You seemed to be doing a lot of work there," he spoke - and for the first time, it seemed like it was out of concern.

"Yeah, and it's all because I had to save your damn ship from falling to pieces," you groaned at him, which only received a long chuckle from him.

Out of the blue, everyone heard the marching of more than a legion of soldiers.

"What's going on?" You muttered to yourself, but your eyes held Sturmhond's.

He avoided them and only shook his head.

"Identify yourself!" The captain of the soldier commanded. The Sun Summoner seemed clearly irritated while Sturmhond grasped her shoulder with his one arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'll handle this," he said and he began to undress himself off his long, ridiculous privateer coat and he seemed to behaving a conversation with the captain. You parted your lips to ask him "Wouldn't you end up naked?", but you quickly took your words back when your eyes perceived Sturmhond wearing a green uniform gilded in golden embroidery, a uniform almost similar to those Ravkan soldiers, but it carried a higher air of command.

"It can't be," the man named Ravski gasped.

"Yes, it is," Sturmhond responded. You unbuckled your knees to get a better view of what was happening.

"Moi Tsarevich," Ravski began to kneel. "My prince,".

You gasped, while Mal and Alina passed each other confused looks.

"I present Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the 22nd Regiment, Soldier of the King's Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and Second Son to his Most Royal Majesty - King Pyotr the Third - Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne!" The captain announced with a spirited voice, while Sturmhond - now Nikolai pulled a smug look across his face.

You couldn't believe your eyes that the man in which you had spent years with was in fact, the estranged Prince of Ravka himself. Your lips quivered as memories came flooding back to you, but you knew that you couldn't cause a scene.

The prince had already been enjoying himself too much.

~•~

Everyone had reached the Stronghold (or moreso like a base) where Grisha who opposed against the Darkling and survivors of East Ravka remained. You spotted Zoya, someone who had always taught you the meaning of hard life back at the Little Palace - greeting Alina Starkov like old friends.

You clenched your fists and held back your tears. Once again, you were a stranger to everyone around you. The only person that you could become yourself was now gone too.

"One week," you took a deep breath in your personal quarters, which was very much far away from Alina and Nikolai's - given your status as a Materialki Grisha. Even Tolya and Tamar's rooms were closer to the Prince's. "Hold on for one week and we shall see," you swallowed the fear in your throat.

Your y/e/c shifted to your modest bed and you laid yourself there - hoping that your memories won't haunt you at night. Everyone was in a meeting to discuss their next move against the Darkling, but you weren't included - as expected.

That night, you recalled the memories from a time long forgotten of you, your brothers and sisters which were called upon to the Little Palace and serve as the Second Army for the Tsar. You shared their excitement when all of you had found out that you were Grisha. Your twin sisters were prodigal Heartrenders like Tamar and Tolya, while your eldest brother was an Inferni and your younger brother was a Squaller. Everyone was suited for battle and talented - but not you.

You were just a plain Materialki - a Durast who was weak and could not bend swords or bullets quickly enough to save your life. And so, you were never ordered to Battle like your siblings since even the Darkling did not acknowledge your abilities.

One day, the Tsar ordered his princes to enter and cross the Fold for a diplomatic mission on west Ravka. Something happened when they were on their way back, and they had to kill as much Volcra as possible along with only a few of the Second Army Soldiers escorting them - with the Heartrenders being your own two sisters and ome of the squallers your younger brother. Almost none survived, with the exception of his princes, as it seemed.

You and your eldest brother grieved their death, and sent many personal letters to both the Darkling and the King, requesting for the return of the bodies of your fallen siblings. However, both of them rejected your requests, giving an excuse that their main priority was to search for the Second Prince - none other than Nikolai Lantsov, instead of bringing their bodies home.

You and your brother were devastated, and he was suddenly being called upon to fight at the Fjerdan borders. You had tried your best to make an armor for him, in which no bullet should be able to pass through - and it worked - only if it hadn't been for the Fjerdans to cut off his head when your brother was wounded.

Distressed, you crossed the the Fold from East to West Ravka by yourself with an invention you had so carelessly made, as an effort to hopefully let the Saints decide your fate in the abyss. And you could have died, if your wounded self wasn't discovered by Sturmhond.

You woke up silently with your eyes brimming in tears. Your siblings' lack of proper burial, Sturmhond's deceit, and your uselessness as a Durast was all too much for you. The very thought of being under the roof of the man which had both killed and saved your life was something your heart could not handle anymore.

You had to leave.

Its not like anyone would realise nor dread your absence.

Wiping the silent and hot tears pouring out of your eyes, you began to pack some clean clothes into your knapsack, a pair of daggers, a map of Ravka, money, food and water. There wasn't much to pack anyway. You put on a cloak and blew out your candle before you opened your door.

"Captain-!" You exclaimed as the blonde and blue-eyed man which had been by your side for years suddenly showed up in front of you with his hands up, and hand balled into a fist, as if he wanted to knock on your door.

"Y/n, you're awake!" He gasped and pulled a cheesy smile. "I guess you've been around me for too long until you could sense me from far away, then?" He chuckled. Slowly observing his formal attire, it was obvious that he had just finished his meeting.

"You're incredibly loud with everything you do, that's how I know," You pursed your lips and forced a smile.

He nodded and began to peek around your pitch black room, past your shoulders. "Your quarters are very dark now, aren't they?" He commented.

"I was sleeping, Capta-I mean, uhm, moi Tsarevich," and you kept a distance away from him as you recalled that the man before you was ranks higher above yours.

"You were asleep with your travelling cloak?" He raised a playful brow.

"You shouldn't be here. Just go to sleep, my prince. You look tired after the meeting,".

"About that," the prince pushed your arm which was blocking the way into your room and lit a match. He searched for your candle for a second and lit it up. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened... earlier," he muttered and his bright eyes searched your room.

"There's nothing to talk about-,".

"Saints, why did they give you such an empty room? There's barely anything in here!" He jumped and began going through your old cupboard. You sighed and closed your eyes, not knowing how to properly deal with the man.

"My prince, you're no longer Sturmhond. Its improper for you to act in this manner. I beg of you, please remove yourself from my quarters," your heart was beginning to ache, but he was seemingly avoiding your words as he continued rambling around.

"The only thing here as stuffed as the king is your-," and his eyes paused at your knapsack. "Why is it packed, y/n? Where are you going?".

"Its none of your concern, my prince," You could not brave yourself to look into his eyes.

"Saints, just call me Nikolai, y/n,".

"How can I just call you Nikolai Lantsov when you've been my Captain and Sturmhond to me?" You snapped as irritation overwhelmed you.

"You don't understand, Nikolai - you're a prince. I'm just a deserter of the Second Army and we're not equals anymore,".

"Come on, you know that I don't think of you that way-,".

"Either way, you can't stop me from leaving," your voice trembled.

Nikolai suddenly crossed his arms and he passed a stern glare at you, a look you had rarely seen him equip himself with. In that moment, you realised that he truly was a Prince - not just any foolish prince like his brother, but a man of command, a man who you could have followed anywhere, even to the edge of the world - if it hadn't been for yourself.

"You can't leave. I forbid you," he stated with his sudden cold blue eyes fixed upon you.

"You have no right to give orders to me," You took a few steps toward him, almost challenging his command.

"You can't leave," Nikolai breathed, voice softening as he slowly closed the distance between the two of you.

"I have no place here - by your side, as a soldier in this war you've involved yourself with. I'm a lesser Durast compared to the ones you've got here-,".

"No one's ever said that to you," Nikolai's hand reached your arm, almost grasping it to not let you go.

"No one needed to say it. I couldn't save my brother because of it. What makes you think that I could save you when you need my help?" your face went hot as you realised how close the both of you were to each other. That panicked heartbeat of yours thundered against your chest and you were worried if he could hear it.

"We made our ship together, y/n. You helped me with my inventions, made it ours and saved me, countless of times during our raids-," he pulled a bittersweet smile as he recalled his days together with you as a privateer.

"Nikolai," your hand instinctively reached his cheek, and he leaned into your touch - blue eyes glowing with a desperate blaze. "Those days are now over. You're a Ravkan Prince and you must let go of things that do not matter anymore - like me,".

He took in a sharp breath and refused to look into your eyes for the first time.

It was true that you had to leave him because there was no chance that the both of you could live peacefully together, sailing away with hopes of building a family together - free from any danger. That was your dream, and not his. Nikolai had always been ambitious, despite his foolhardy efforts to make him appear the opposite.

When he remained silent, you passed by his shoulder and grabbed your knapsack. You crossed your room and to your door, before hesistating to reach for the doorknob. Turning back to him one last time, you stretched a soft and genuine smile of fond farewell to Nikolai.

"Farewell, moi Sobachka. If the Saints would allow it, we'll meet again," you muttered and closed the door behind you as you left.

Nikolai stared at the still door, breathless and heart aching. His heart was heavy, but he understood why you had to leave. With his final breath within your presence, he breathed:

"I love you,".

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stromuprisahat · 4 days

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Second Army disorganization

Siege and Storm- Chapter 14

One of the most frustrating and famously nonsensical passages of Grisha trilogy, easily explained through doylist approach- the author's inability to write strategy or politics and demands of the genre, requiring a weak, unfit heroine to defeat immensely powerful opponent way out of her league:

Alina: Oh no, they dare to oppose me again! :(

Isn't that why would you want to establish a council in the first place? So you get constructive criticism and suggestions to do things better?!

My objections to the notion Alina came up with representation of Grisha can't be more obvious:

Army is a structured organization. There are ranks and councils by default. No amount of ignorant teens will persuade me calling it "Second" makes it otherwise.

Any big organization has a structure. Even if Second Army were only about education, there would be councils and posts on different levels. Hell, school system works that way.

Alina: I'm gonna have the useless ones represented, because we're not doing things like the Darkling, but that doesn't mean I'll respect them myself or abandon my prejudices. Fucking nerds. Weidos...

Another YA nonsense- you cannot put people into categories based on their physical predispositions, and expect the mental ones to fit accordingly. You can have a huge, muscled guy, skilled in delicate handiwork. You can have a tiny wisp of a girl beating the living shit out of you (popular trope by itself).

Now why should sensitivity to metals get you a spot in labs, if you're a strategic genius? Or incredibly skilled, witty rhetorician? Isn't it more likely you'd be required to complete basic training to stay healthy and prevent accidentally endangering others, while being assigned to whatever you're most useful at?

And what about those weak or less intelligent ones? Are they bringing coffee and arranging entertainment?!

It also fits this fan interpretation, that Materialki are often neuro-divegent, so they are tend to be kept away from battle for their own sake.

Alina wasn't involved in practical running of Second Army before. Just because she doesn't know about something, it's not a totally fresh idea.

I'd be afraid of a girl, who almost murdered a bunch of people for asking questions, too.

At this point, I'm gonna run with the idea that all the older Grisha are torn between face-palming and silently laughing their assess off (so Alina doesn't overhear and her clique doesn't resort to violence).

“But what do they do in there?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Only the Corporalki know. But there are rumors that they’ve been working with the Fabrikators on new … experiments.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 8

... and that says nothing about the field, or the little groups in noble houses. People tend to stick together with their own, when in strange enviroment. I'm sure such bonds dissolve immediately after their return "home".

I've also delved a little into the sitting order here.

A few lines earlier, Alina noted Materialki didn't show up to complain. Who is so horrified then?! Not them, for sure.

Ironically, this fits into Fabricator-brain theory linked above AND the most logical explanation- Materialki have basic self-defense training, but only those, who are able to, continue. Alina isn't particularly friendly with any of them, so how would she know no one had EVER bothered to teach them? Alright, there are none in her class, but as far as we know, it consists of a Squaller, an Inferni and a Heartrender. Not the most saying sample.

Having a third of all Grisha helpless doesn't fit into the picture of Aleksander's leadership:

“That’s what Botkin always says. ‘Not showy, just to make pain,’” I said, imitating the mercenary’s heavy accent. “Smart guy.” “The Darkling doesn’t think Grisha should rely on their powers for defense.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 17

You don't have to become another Bruce Lee, you only need a chance, when they drag you out of bed in the middle of the night.

What tradition?

This is rather well-written group of angry, disorganized people. It might start with a reasonable goal, but soon everyone talks about something else than others, and the message gets lost in the noise.

Tradition doesn't equal "the way things are done". Neither of them is the same as "the need for structure and people knowing their places". The third one is a legitimate concern, although one could argue it's exactly what Alina's attempting.

This whole scene very much reads like:

The author is desperate to prove the Heroine isn't quite useless- she has good ideas! Look! *whacks a hundreds of years old stategist and survivor par excellence with stupid stick*