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hottpinkpenguin · 1 year

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Seafoam (part 5)

Series masterlist Warnings: canon-typical violence, descriptions of reader in captivity, hints of torture, canon divergent

The fire that Aleksander had lit earlier that night had burned down to simmering embers. Aleksander’s eyes, bleary with exhaustion, rested on the coals, but he didn’t see them. HIs gaze was misty and withdrawn, his mind reeling with impatience as he willed the minutes to slide by. Lying open on the small table next to him, the note he’d found impaled to a try by a small, Fjerdan blade fluttered in the breeze.

Dawn. Mountaintop. Come alone.

The letter hadn’t been the only thing pinned between the bark of the tree outside his tent and the Fjerdan steel. He’d laced the dirty scrap of ribbon between his fingers, its color so faded that he may not have recognized it if it weren’t for your scent. That ribbon had once been a brilliant shade of seafoam green, and it was the color Aleksander saw you in when he dreamt at night. It was the last color he’d seen on you; the color David had slaved away recreating for months on end.

Aleksander had recognized the ribbon, even in its faded, filthy state, as soon as he’d caught sight of it. His heart had knotted in his chest when he saw the dark, carmine colored stain that could only be dried blood. And he knew what it meant long before he read the note.

The drüskelle had you. They’d followed the dispatched soldiers he’d sent back to Os Alta as soon as he’d caught wind of the Fjerdans’ plan to capture you. Aleksander realized now that he’d been outplayed. He’d gone blind with terror at the thought of you in his enemies’ clutches and acted out of instinct. He hadn’t stopped to consider that the Fjerdans didn’t know where you were. Aleksander had gone to great pains to keep your relationship private for that exact reason. Even the members of his court didn’t know who you were, beyond his paramour, and he’d made certain that no one ever knew where you laid your head at night.

He’d panicked, however, when his scouts had intercepted dispatches between the Fjerdan commanders and the drüskelle identifying you by name as their target. Without a second thought, Aleksander had ordered five of his best fighters and fastest riders to Os Alta, desperate to get to you before the enemy. Aleksander had been saddling his own mount to join them when Ivan had intervened, imploring him to stay if only to save the morale of his already fraying forces. It had been the only argument Aleksander would have caved to, and his closest advisor had known it. Begrudgingly and with black rage bubbling in his gut, Aleksander had agreed. His barely contained rage had been palpable to the five grisha he entrusted with your life, and they’d been happy to oblige his orders to get to her with all possible speed. Blinded by terror and feeling like a caged animal, Aleksander couldn’t think of anything but getting to you and bringing you to him. He’d have traded anything - his powers, his soul, maybe even the tattered shreds of his army in his weaker moments - to feel you wrapped in his embrace, safe once more.

Only when he’d heard Private Tovin’s bedside confession had he put the pieces together. The dying Heartrender had said that he’d tried to follow the drüskelle who’d taken you, but that he’d lost the trail in the mountains. Aleksander hadn’t been surprised; the mountains that ran along the eastern edge of Ravka and up into Fjerdan territory were impenetrable, especially in the winter. Even though it had been only late autumn in Os Alta when Private Tovin had knocked on your door, winter had already taken root in the mountains.

Aleksander realized that had been his mistake. He’d sent the soldiers dispatched from his camp to fetch you by the most direct path, ignoring the risk of being followed. He’d assumed that there’d be no need for Fjerda to worry about following his soldiers; instead, he’d expected them to be racing towards your doorstep at that very moment. How they’d come to learn of your identity and your location, he had no idea. The fact plagued him, stuck in his side like a thorn, but he’d deemed it an irrelevant detail and brushed it aside in favor of focusing on your rescue. If he’d been more thoughtful, been thinking with a clearer head, he would have instructed the grisha tasked with retrieving you to take a more circuitous route, through the mountains, to avoid being tracked.

That was how the drüskelle found you. Aleksander had let them right to you. He’d practically opened the door to your house himself. When that realization had clicked into place, Aleksander had felt something crack open deep in his chest. Whatever tender and longing sliver of his heart had been kept evergreen throughout this bloody conflict by your memory had turned to ash. A black fire of despair, vengeance, and cruelty blazed through him, burning every surface of his heart and leaving no room for the softness you’d so lovingly planted there. He couldn’t even remember the sound of your laughter.

Aleksander had to admit that when he saw that note and the tattered ribbon nailed to a tree by his tent, he’d felt an intense relief wash over him. Finally, he’d thought as he’d pulled the blade from the tree and retreated inside, ordering his guards not to let anyone disturb him. Let’s end this damn thing.

He’d found the note and the ribbon just after sunset a few hours ago. The night was dark now, its dying gasp before yielding to the wan light of dawn. Nights were always darkest before the dawn. As the king of shadows, Aleksander knew that fact to his very core. He also knew that he wouldn’t live to see another sunset. He could feel death stalking him like a restless beast, eager to sink its claws into him. He’d dodged death for hundreds of years, denying it the satisfaction of claiming him and feasting on his powers. But just as that black fire of hatred had seared shut all the soft parts of him that had once been human, Aleksander had felt death rearing its head in his future. Death was greedy, he knew; he’d been feeding it a steady diet of innocent Grisha lives for the duration of this horrid war, and still Death wasn’t satisfied. It wouldn’t rest until he succumbed to its cold embrace.

Although it had been a long time since dying had scared him, Aleksander did feel a white-hot barbed coil of fear writhing in his chest. Fear for you. Fear that you’d go roaring into Death’s blackness alongside him. Maybe you were already there, waiting to greet him. The thought threatened to empty the contents of his stomach on the floor of his tent, but Aleksander gripped the arms of his chair, gritting his teeth against the urge to run run run run to you. The command to seek you, find you, save you rang in his blood. He’d been fighting it all night long, forcing the logical part of his mind to create a plan. He’d let that blinded instinct to save you control him once before, and now you were in the clutches of his enemies because of it. He refused to let that happen again.

The coals in the hearth were gray with cold when he finally rose from his seat. Outside, the Grisha camp remained hushed with sleep. No one knew about the summons he’d received, or the ribbon still laced between his fingers. Aleksander could hear the gentle breathing of his guards outside his tent, knew they weren’t sleeping but were calm, unaware that he stirred within. Using the ample darkness of a starless night mixed with his own powers, Aleksander slipped out the back of his tent, unlacing the leather cord that stitched two panels of his tent together. Aside from the ribbon that used to adorn your wrist, he took nothing with him.

Turning his eyes up the steep slope of the mountainside, Aleksander began climbing.

*****

An unrelenting wind had blown all night. By the time dawn peeked over the distant horizon, you were near delirious with blood loss, exhaustion, and frostbite. You’d been kept bound and gagged for the duration of the climb up the mountain - a three day journey - and no one had removed your bounds that night either. They’d thrown you to the ground and left you there, shivering in the snow in the nightgown you’d been wearing the night they’d taken from you Os Alta. The drüskelle hadn’t lit any fires, preferring instead to huddle together with their furs slung over each others’ shoulders, sharing in body warmth. None of them shared any of their warmth with you, although the commander who had threatened to burn you at the stake (part of you wondered darkly if that might be a better ending than succumbing to the cold) had slung his heavy coat over your trembling shoulders as night had fallen. That coat, you knew, was the only reason you’d lived through the night. You doubted you’d walk away from this with all your toes and fingers - if you walked away at all - but frostbite hadn’t spread much beyond your smallest digits.

Sometime in the dead of night, you’d heard a group of the drüskelle leave the camp and disappear down the path you’d climbed up to the barren mountaintop the day before. Although you couldn’t see him in the faint light, you could hear that they’d returned, and from the sound of it they’d dragged a large tree trunk up the mountainside with them. A few of the men who’d stayed in the camp all night began stripping the trunk of its bark and digging into the frozen ground. A chill ran down your spine as you heard the commander bark orders to fetch rastolz, the Fjerdan word for kindling. You knew that the commander meant to make good on his promise to test your stubbornness at the stake.

Aleksander, where are you? Your mind called out into the dispassionate darkness that pressed down on you from all angles. Even though you knew your body fared a better chance of surviving under the light of day, you feared the rise of the sun. Darkness was familiar to you, it reminded you of Aleksander. If he was going to save you, it had to be now, and it would be in the dark.

As if summoned by your terrified silent pleading, a cry of surprise erupted from the edge of the camp. You fought against the pain in your neck and shoulders to lift your head in the direction of the sound. Even in the dark, you could see him. A figure that seemed to radiate blackness, swallowing all the light in sight. He crested the ridge, coming into full view of the camp like a conquering emperor. Even though he was wearing his basic fighting leathers with no blades, swords, or weapons visible and no crown atop his head, Aleksander was every inch a king. A deep, rumbling power reverberated in the air around him. It made you want to sink to your knees in front of him, as if your instincts could sense the raw strength of the man approaching.

But it wasn’t until you looked at his eyes that you exhaled, familiarity flooding every inch of your being. His gaze raked over the camp, looking for something, looking for you. Those eyes danced with a black fire you’d never seen in them before, but behind that wall of flame you knew the man there. You’d shared his bed and so much more. You’d felt the strength of his heartbeat beneath your palms, you’d shared in laughter together, made wishes by starlight and faced fears in the daytime. You’d spent countless quiet moments without any glamor or glory there to enrich them: moments in the library reading in companionable silence, moments in the market arguing over which soap scents you each preferred, moments of friendship and disagreement and deep, abiding affection. You loved him, and he loved you. Aleksander. Your Aleksander.

You cried out his name involuntarily, but the gag digging into your mouth stifled the syllables on your tongue, only letting out a pitiful moan. Aleksander’s head snapped in your direction at the sound, his eyes resting on you and widening in recognition. The black fire that blazed in his pupils bloomed, and that reverberating power roared in answer. The Fjerdans had begun to organize, the sound of steel on steel setting your teeth on edge as the first brave few drew their swords and approached the Black General.

Aleksander kept his eyes fixed on you as the sun speared the darkness, rising above the horizon and bathing the camp in light. The rays made it easier to see him, and your heart wrenched as you took stock of how haggard he looked. Despite how straight his spine was, the proud and regal tilt of his head and the commanding expression etched on his handsome features, he was considerably slimmer than the last time you’d seen him. His leathers were roomy in a way you’d never seen them, the muscles of his chest, shoulders, and thighs wasted down to their wiriest. Dark bags hung beneath his murderous eyes, and his pallor betrayed a man who’d been hungry too long.

Despite it all, you’d never seen him look so powerful.

Wriggling in the snow, you forced your body towards him. The bonds wrapped tight around your wrists and ankles restricted your movement considerably, but you struggled in his direction nonetheless. Neither of you broke eye contact, even as a few drüskelle reached him. His eyes continued to blaze with that awful black fire as he deftly dodged his opponents’ swords, his hands twisting in the intricate dance that Grisha used to harness their powers. Aleksander’s powers outpaced almost every Grisha - past and present - and he wielded them with deadly precision, honing his shadows into a blade of magic that Grisha called The Cut. He dealt with the first few drüskelle handily, rending their heads from their necks by virtue of The Cut.

You watched, transfixed by him and the familiar moves of his body. More drüskelle advanced on him, their ranks beginning to organize and coordinate an attack. The commander barked orders at his men, gesturing emphatically but with a steely calm that unnerved you. His men responded in kind, the frenzy of Aleksander’s surprise attack wearing off. He was one man against dozens, after all; despite his powers, even the Black Heretic would be hard pressed to take down an entire phalanx of drüskelle alone.

Your throat tightened as the magnitude of the threat against Aleksander’s life - and yours - came into sharp focus. You couldn’t tear your eyes from him, not even when a significantly more coordinated cluster of drüskelle swarmed him. The onslaught forced him to break his gaze with you, focusing on dispatching the troublesome enemies around him. Despite the sharp and well-trained movements of the drüskelle fighters, Aleksander remained a hair’s breadth ahead of them. It took longer than the first wave, but one by one these men too fell under his Cut.

Just as his shadows sliced through the last fighter’s torso, staining the snow around him in an arcing rain of blood, you felt rough, cold hands grab you by the hair, dragging you backwards. Your scalp erupted in pain, your eyes blurring with tears as you cried out involuntarily.

Your cry echoed in Aleksander’s bones, and he felt that ravenous black fire intensify. He yielded to the flame, letting it rush up to the front of his mind, the blistering rage he felt burning through the last few shreds of logic. This was a new aspect of his power he’d never felt before, and he knew the fuel for it came from knowing you were in danger. Aleksander had lived through countless wars and battles, but never before had his stakes been so high.

By the time the drüskelle commander was done dragging you and the tears had cleared from your eyes, you could barely see Aleksander anymore. Instead, you saw a writhing wall of black flames where he’d once stood. The flames lashed out hungrily at the Fjerdans now hesitating in their ranks, exchanging nervous glances with one another and their leaders, whose commands had fallen silent for a moment. An eerie quiet descended on the camp as everyone seemed to hold their breath, unsure of what to do. Then, piercing that eerie silence came the agonizing screams of the drüskelle engulfed in those obsidian black flames. The fire itself seems to roar with its own voice, a battle cry of pure vengeance that shattered the sky. Another heartbeat later and the screams of agony were extinguished.

Chaos erupted as the drüskelle leaders resumed barking their orders, their commands sharper this time. You could hear fear in their voices. Some of the men were hesitating now, unwilling to comply with their new orders, which caused the commanders to scream louder as they felt their grip on control slipping. Underneath it all, Aleksander’s black flames thundered, sweeping out towards the balking Fjerdans like the snapping jaws of a beast. Anyone the flames touched ignited like dried kindling, howling in pain for a moment before their skin and bones burned to ash, leaving nothing behind but scorch marks in the snow.

You’d never seen Aleksander’s powers like this before, never knew that his shadows could take the form of flames. It was terrible to behold, yet you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He was wreathed in the same fire that consumed the drüskelle, except he didn’t burn away or cry out. He moved with savage purpose, trying to get to you. Your body responded, every muscle taut with anticipation as you tried to wrench a hand free from the bonds around your wrists. You felt a cold trickle of blood run down your palms from where the rope had rubbed your skin raw, but you gritted your teeth against the burn and continued to try. Just before your hand slipped free, calloused hands knotted themselves in your hair again, this time hauling you up from the ground to your feet.

“One more step, General, and I gut your whore where she stands!”

You recognized the voice that bellowed mere inches from your ear. It was the drüskelle commander, the one who’d spoken to you in the hut and given you his cloak last night to make sure you’d live to this moment. You felt the cold bite of a sharp blade against the soft skin of your throat as he pulled your hair down, exposing your neck to the cold.

The flames stopped their greedy rampage in their tracks. At the center of the fire, you saw Aleksander’s face, a frozen mask of rage mixed with sheer terror as he started at you. For a split second, you saw Aleksander calculate whether he’d be able to burn his way to you.

The commander holding you pressed his advantage, screaming out again in heavily accented Ravkan.

“Burn me, General, and you burn her with me.”

Once again, the clear was coated in a thick silence. No one seemed to breath as Aleksander’s eyes darted between you, the commander pressed against your back with his hand in your hair, and the drüskelle flanking you.

“You’ve had your fun, now we talk terms.” The commander’s voice was softer now, but more commanding. He had the upper hand, and he knew it.

Across the clearing, only about ten paces from you, Aleksander shook with effort as he kept his flames contained. He tamped down the primal scream in his head that implored him to burn, burn it all. He knew he wouldn’t be able to aim his flames with enough precision to avoid burning you.

His dark eyes were wide and focused on you as he replied quietly, “Name your terms. Anything, anything, in exchange for her life. Unharmed.” His voice broke like fragile glass on the word her, the mask of rage slipping to reveal grief and raw fear smoldering beneath it.

You felt your knees threaten to give out under you as tears slid from the corners of your eyes. You tried to call out no! but once again the gag muffled your words. Only a guttural groan punctuated by sobs made its way out, but you knew Aleksander understood what you were trying to say. Please, you begged him with your eyes. Please don’t do this. Don’t make me watch you die. Don’t give up, not yet. You knew what price the drüskelle wanted. Nothing less than a trade, Aleksander’s life for yours. They knew that without the Black General, what little remained of the Second Army would fold in on itself in a matter of days, perhaps less. And once they had Aleksander surrendered, they’d kill you too. You didn’t doubt that Aleksander knew this too, but his options were limited. The sting of razor-sharp steel pressing against your windpipe was proof of that. You knew he’d bargain with Death itself to try and buy you one more moment, one more chance to escape.

Next to your ear, you heard the commander chuckle darkly. “Good, General. I am glad you can see reason. Let us be rid of those flames, and we can talk.”

Slowly, inch by inch, you watched as those deadly black flames retreated away from the Fjerdan forces, withdrawing back towards Aleksander. His eyes were closed and his brows knitted together with the strain. You wondered what it cost him to unleash that fire, and what it was costing him now to try and control it. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his hands and arms shaking as the flames seem to crawl back under his skin.

Your scalp was still screaming in pain against the vicious tug of the commander’s hand tangled in your matted hair. You tried to tilt your head back to ease the pull, but the movement caused your stiff neck to protest. Your body felt weak from lack of food; even the adrenaline pulsing through your veins did little to numb the aches and pains. You tried once more to twist a hand free of the bonds at your wrist, wincing at the pain as the rope continued to dig into the freshly cut skin there. You felt blood run down your hand from where the rope bit into your wrist. Trying to keep your shoulders still so the commander wouldn’t notice what you were doing, you squeezed your eyes shut against the pain as you twisted your hand once more.

Unable to keep from grunting, you felt your thumb dislocate with a white-hot blaze of agony. With your thumb crushed unnaturally into your palm, it allowed enough room to slide your blood-slick hand free of the bond. Your shoulders released slightly from the position they’d been stuck in for days. The relief was exquisite but horribly painful, almost enough to make you black out. The commander noted your body weight growing heavy and renewed his grip on your hair, causing you to whelp. You had to stop yourself from instinctually reaching up with your hand to try and relieve the pressure on your scalp.

Your strength was fading fast, quickened by the pain from your thumb. You had to act fast - now - before you were too weak to be anything but a burden. You bent your elbows and used your uninjured hand to grip your opposite wrist as you swung your elbow back into the stomach of the commander who was gripping you tightly by the hair. It was a weak blow, not nearly enough to injure him, but enough to take him by surprise and knock the air from his lungs. His breath whooshed past your ear in a forced exhale at the same moment you felt his hand loosen slightly on your scalp. Taking advantage of his momentary confusion, you wrenched your head violently away from him, screaming at the pain as a few knots of your hair were ripped out at the roots. Giving over to instinct, you tried to run, but the bonds around your ankles shortened your steps. You collapsed just a half pace or so from where the commander stood, bent over at the waist as he tried to regain his breath.

You lifted your head weakly, eyes locking with Aleksander’s. Time seemed to slow as you fell into his gaze. You saw the black flames he’d been working so hard to harness erupt outward from him like a dying star, sweeping across the field towards you. They were a wall of fire, dark like shadows, and as they approached you could feel a cold so intense it burned. Instinctively, your eyes closed and you shied away from the flames, bracing for the onslaught of pain as the flames washed over you.

But none came. The flames parted around you like water around a rock, close enough to feel their deadly frozen heat but not near enough to do any damage. Around you, the sounds of men crying out in agony echoed through the clearing. One cry was close enough to raise the hairs on the back of your neck. You turned your head, fighting against the wall of pain that threatened to suck you into unconsciousness. Just a few inches from your feet, you watched the drüskelle commander’s armor ignite in flame and burn away, his skin blistering underneath as he let loose a blood-curdling wail. He collapsed to his knees, his body losing its recognizable form as his flesh seemed to melt like hot wax. His cries were cut off by a strangled, gurgling sound as the tendons and muscles beneath his skin began to curl like cooked meat. The urge to vomit seized you as his burnt corpse fell to the ground mere inches from you.

The flames raged for a few more moments before they died as suddenly as they’d arrived. The clearing was plunged into an eerie calm, the only sounds were Aleksander’s footfalls crunching the charred grass as he ran to you. He knelt beside you and turned you over gently in his hands, which were cold like blocks of ice. Your head came to rest on his lap as he smoothed the hair from your dirty, sweat-stained face. You looked up into his eyes, but they looked wrong somehow. His face was ghastly pale and his eyes were so dark they seemed to swallow the light around him. Nevertheless, he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. You’d forgotten how handsome he was. He gazed down at you like you were a marvel never before seen. You felt yourself slip into darkness to the feel of his mouth - soft and warm - on yours.

read part 6 (finale) here

#darkling #darkling x you #darkling x reader #darkling x y/n #darkling imagine #darkling fanfiction #darkling shadow and bone #alexander morozova #alexander morozova x y/n #alexander morozova x reader #alexander morozova imagine #aleksander morozova #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x y/n #aleksander morozova imagine #seafoam series

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we-were-born-to-be-free · 11 months

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"You're mine," he whispered.

"Yours" I breathed.

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drinix · 3 months

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When that villain is played by Ben Barnes 🥹

#ben barnes #bin bons #narnia #king caspian #billy russo #imagine #shadow and bone #leigh bardugo #the darkling #alexander morozova

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ineffablelvrs · 1 year

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btw now that the second season of the show comes out in less than a week, i want to remind yall that it does not matter that ben barnes plays him, it does not matter that he's "hot so it's okay", the darkling is a fucking creep, a groomer and a manipulator and yall just like him bc he's a powerful, conventionally attarctive man. he's NOT "morally gray". grishaverse characters who ARE actually morally gray are for example kaz, nikolai and zoya. darkling is straight up a villain, an unredeemable one to add to that. to sum up, fuck darkling and his apologists :)

#people who like him and or ship him with alina zoya genya or whoever the fuck else fill me with undescribable rage #anti darkling #anti darklina #shadow and bone #siege and storm #ruin and rising #grishaverse #shadow and bone 2 #ben barnes #imagine how much hate hed be getting if he was a woman #no one would like him like #also ppl who claim to be zoya/genya/alina stans but are also darkling apologists... somethings not adding up bro #zoya nazyalensky #alina starkov #alina starkova #genya safin #the darkling #alexander morozova

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cheekygreenty · 1 year

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Season two

I didn’t want to write this I really didn’t but I am beyond disappointed at season two. I have nothing against Six of Crows however I watched for Shadow and Bone. Alina’s character arc was ruined, the Darkling was discredited and Mal was glorified. Don’t get me started on how there was more screen time for the crows in a show that wasn’t even theirs.

The plot was completely abandoned and ruined from the S&B books. The relationship between Alina and the Darkling were complicated and intricate, with deep and personal battles. The show got rid of all dimension in favour of Mal, which in the books was good for nothing.

Season two of Shadow and Bone was written for the spin off which isn’t deserved.

I don’t care if they cancel, but I will not be watching season three and will forget season two ever happened.

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loubombshell · 2 years

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Imagine being friends with Mal and Alina

part one | part two

A guard grabbed y/n's arm tightly and leaded her to a room to stay for the night. He let her inside and closed the door.

The girl took a look around the whole, it was probably the most beautiful one she'll ever stay in. It was filled with stunning details on the wall and ceiling, she even had a little desk and mirror.

Y/n stepped in front of the mirror, looking at herself, her hair was messy, he face was dirty and had some scratches on it. The girl took a look around and found another door, leading into a bathroom. She smiled about it and started the water getting herself a bit cleaned up.

Y/n stepped out of the bathroom again, looking out of the window, she had a perfect view into the backyard with a little hut at the end of it. She also saw two people walking towards it, a masculine figure and probably a guard. It looked like-

It looked like Mal.

"What is he doing?" She whispered to herself and hurried out of the room, running along the hallway. She heard some music and a lot of people talking and stopped abruptly when she saw them. They wore their most beautiful dresses, or their Keftas, she made her way through the people trying to find a way out.

Suddenly the entire room grew dark and people kept quiet. "Her name is Alina Starkov and she's the sun summoner." A male voice said Y/n turned to the voice, standing on a little stage. Alina stepped on it, taking a look around while the General walked down from the stage, through the crowd, towards Y/n.

"You're not supposed to be here." The Darkling told her honestly and grabbed her arm a bit harshly.

Y/n looked to him and pulled her arm immediately back. "I know, I'm sorry but Mal- he walked out and I wanted to see if he's alright." She explained but got interrupted when she saw the light blinding the whole room. Alina was impressive and Y/n smiled a bit about her friend.

The Darkling looked to Alina too and back to Y/n, he took her arm again and pulled her away from the crowd. "No, wait I've to talk to her." The girl told him but he just ignored her.

"She can't talk right now, I already told you I'll bring her to you if she knows you." The man explained and pushed her in the arms of a female guard.

"Oh really? Did you already ask her or what are you waiting for? You won't find your precious stag without Mal's or my help." Y/n explained to him and the Darkling raised his chin moving closer to her.

"You'll have to wait until I ask her or you can spend the night in the dungeon." He whispered in her ear and gave the guard a nod, while she dragged Y/n away.

Y/n walked a few meters with the guard. "He's such an asshole." She whispered under her breath what makes the guard next to her smile a bit. The guard was a bit smaller than Y/n, had black hair she braided together.

"Do you know her? The sun summoner?" The guard asked her walking through the hallways.

"I do, she's my best friend. We grow up together, I just want to see her again after these many months." Y/n explained to her.

The guard nodded understanding. "I'll take you back to the war room and you can wait there for her. I hope he'll bring her there." She explained.

"A-Are you even allowed to do so?" Y/n asked her honestly.

"Probably not." The guard smirked and took her to the room. "Just don't tell anyone about it." She added and left again.

The girl smiled and walked carefully in his war room, looking around and over his desk. She saw the picture of the stag, it looked like a drawing from Alina. Y/n took it in her hands and moved with her fingers over it, smiling about it.

Suddenly the doors flew open and Y/n got down, hoping no one saw her. She moved under the table and saw four feet moving around.

"What do you know about Alina's two little friends?" The Darkling asked.

"I just know the things from the letters and what Alina told me. They grew up together, fight for each other and basically went through everything together." A female voice explained.

"How adorable. After they told me about the stag, make sure to get rid of them." He told the woman and Y/n put a hand over her mouth, afraid to make a sound. "They're just distracting Alina and don't want her to become powerful. Oh and send Alina in after you're leaving." He added.

"Yes, General." The woman said and walked out of the room again.

Y/n looked after the woman leaving and tried to stay quiet. She thought about Mal, hopefully he's well. The next what she heard were another footsteps of a woman again. God they're walking in an out here.

"Alina." The Darkling said happily and Y/n wide her eyes. "You were perfect out there." He added and Y/n watched Alina's feet standing between his. She almost threw up about it.

"Thank you Alexander, I can feel my power grew and grew everyday." Alina explained excited and suddenly everything went quiet.

Did he kill her? Did she pass out?

A sound above her broke her thoughts, someone sat down on the table and she heard heavy breathing. Ew.

"I'll be right back, wait here for me." The Darkling or Alexander said and walked out of the room while Alina got down from the table again. He closed the door after he left.

That's her sign.

"Alina!" Y/n said under the table and came out of her hiding spot.

Alina turned around by the sound of her voice. "Y/n?! Wha- What are you doing here?" She asked her and pulled her in a bone crashing hug.

"I'm here to see you, of course." The girl chuckled and hugged her friend tightly. She took a step back after a while and looked her up and down. "You look like a real grisha." She told her.

Alina smirked. "Well, could be because I am." She said and hugged her one more time. "I'm so happy to see you again." She added and they hold onto each other for a while.

Behind them a book shelf opened and Y/n frowned, she let go of Alina and looked closely. An old woman walked through, her body supported by a cane in her hand.

"Baghra?" Alina asked surprised and walked towards her. "What are you doing here?" She asked.

"Stupid girl, don't ask questions and follow me already." Baghra told her and pushed her towards the dark alley.

"What is happening right now?" Y/n asked confused but got suddenly hit by a cane after she asked. "Ow!" She shouted and hold onto the hurting arm.

"Both of you go now!" Baghra said again and they walked together through the dark. Y/n picked up a lantern on the side and hold it up, helping her see in the dark. Alina stopped her and created a light in her palms.

"That's incredible." Y/n smiled and got pushed forward by the old woman.

"Go already before it's to late." She said and Alina turned to her confused, but still walking forward.

"To late? But-"

"I'm trying to safe you from spending the rest of your life being a slave." She explained.

Alina walked behind the woman always looking behind her shoulder. "What? Maybe we should go back to Alex- General Kirigan. I'm sure he can help." She explained.

Y/n was about to say something but got interrupted by the woman. "I'm trying to safe you from Alexander." She said. "He wants to expand the fold and use it as a weapon, that's why he created it in the first place." Baghra explained.

"What? No. The Black Heretic created the fold, hundreds of years ago." Alina argued. "He trains me and wants me to grow stronger." She added with a little smile.

"Oh really? Or did he distract you with his plans of the future. Child, Alexander is the Black Heretic. He hid behind a noble name for many years after he created the fold." She added.

"You're lying." Alina shook her head.

"Look at me." Baghra said and the shadows started raising behind her.

"You're his mother." Alina said disappointed, while Y/n watched the shadows moving around.

After some more talking the girls walked out of the building, looking for a way to escape. Y/n watched the guards already walking around, probably searching for them. The girl took some old clothes she found and gave them to Alina.

"Put it on and give me your clothes, we gonna split and I distract them while you run away." Y/n explained to her but Alina immediately shook her head.

"No, Y/n we gonna leave together." Alina explained to her.

"Just trust me, you know I was the best when we played chasing. Mal and you always freaked out." Y/n chuckled and hugged her again. Alina sighed and nodded. "Alright, but be careful." She added and gave her the kefta.

Y/n put it on and a cape too, hiding her hair and face a bit. "Now go. I'll find you." She whispered and swing on top of the horse.

"I'll leave you a way to find me." Alina told her and watched her riding away, she ran to a carriage and hid in there immediately.

Y/n kicked the horse lightly into the side and it started running towards the forest. She hold tightly onto the reins and took a look over her shoulder. When she heard the guards yelling after her, she turned back with a little smirk. After just a few seconds she heard horses behind her. Three people were following her: One with a black Kefta, the General. A woman with a blue kefta and a man with a red kefta.

"Stop it, Alina! What are you doing?" The General shouted after her. Both of them next to him, started riding even faster circling her from left and right.

The General stopped in front of the girl.

Y/n turned with her horse to him and took her hood from the head, smiling at him. "Can I help you?" She asked him.

The Genera and the Grisha next to him gave her a death glare.

part three: coming soon

@intothesoul @issybee0611

#general kirigan x y/n #ben barnes x reader #alexander morozova x y/n #alexander morozova x you #alexander morozova x reader #alexander morozova #the darkling x you #the darkling x reader #the darkling x y/n #the darkling imagine #the darkling #shadow and bone #aleksander morovoza #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova imagines #aleksander morozova x you

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geminithetwins · 2 years

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Okay but if Nikolai and Darkling were couples in real life, they would be the literal example of good cop, bad cop.

#darkolai #bookaddict #grishaverse #the darkling #nikolai lantsov #king nikolai #shadow and bone imagine #book blog #alexander morozova #rule of wolves #general kirigan #ben barnes

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carnationworld-writings · 2 years

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Hi guys! Amazing things happened today! We reached 500 followers on this blog! You don’t even know how important it’s for me!

Thank you so much for every follow, every like and reblog! Every comment you leave here went straight to my heart! I wanted to thank you for understanding - this year, as my last year at uni was extremely busy. And you always have words of support for me, and when I came back from my hiatus, you still welcomed me with open arms.

I know that there are still requests from previous celebrations. I’ll do everything in my power to make them. And this time, we will keep it simple.

The celebration takes time from today - 31.07.2022, to 14.08.2022.

Send me:

🖋 if you want me to write a blurb for you (you can use one of the prompts from here (1) / (2) / (3) / (4) / (5) / (6) or send me one of yours, remember to send a character! And if you use one of the prompts, please, make it clear from which one list (send me the number that I gave them or copy the prompt)

📘 if you want me to write headcanons for you (tell me about who and about what, you also can use prompts from above)

I’m open to your ideas, but a have some rules - please, write the pronouns I should use - I want to be respectful to all of you and it will make me so much easier. Also, when you chose prompts - please use a max of 3 of them.

At this moment I feel the most comfortable writing about Narnia, Harry Potter Universe, The Mummy (my beloved Ardeth Bay) and Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz. I could also try to write about Bridgertones, Supernatural or Shadow and Bone - I never wrote about them but I’m really eager to try.

Taglist : @elennox03 @live-love-loki @effielumiere @blackst0nes7077 @mystic-writings @aleksanderblack @radcloudenthusiast @siriuslyslyslytherin @90steaology @mandos-crest @kaqua @aleksanderwh0r3 @anne-kollay @padfootswife24 @crowssixof @x-heartrender-x @siriusbarnesslut @florqlness @mrs-brekker15 @sassybadqueen @teti-menchon0604 @multifandomrandomgirl @ctrl-z33 @sophiavrodrigues @wecallhimbrowneyess @rominaszh @poisxnedmind @frutilooplupin @i-spaced-sorry

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readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure · 11 months

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Hi, I am fascinated by your writing, may I give you an idea? Imagine that the story is after Alexander's death and Alexander and Luda meet again...

Hi! I'm glad you are enjoying my writing. I'm not actually accepting prompts outside of prompt games anymore, but you caught me at a quiet time and I managed to bang this one out today in between doing housework. It's a bit different than this blog's usual MO, as it's not a reader fic, but I hope you like it. 💕

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Aleksander blinked rapidly, the sudden dark surprising him after the bright sunlight of only a moment ago. The last thing he remembered was Alina standing above him, wearing the sun as a halo, and now he was suddenly standing in an inky void. What in Ravka had happened to him?

The answer came in a sudden rush as he remembered Alina’s blade piercing his skin. His Sun Summoner had killed him, banishing him to this place of darkness.

How very poetic.

Aleksander looked around and squinted, trying to make shapes out of the shadows. But there was nothing. Only him. Was this really the afterlife? Weren’t there supposed to be Saints greeting him, if only to condemn him to an eternity of torture?

‘Hello?’ he called out, his voice echoing around him.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Aleksander started to think that this was it, that he would be truly alone for the rest of eternity… but then he heard footsteps. He wasn’t alone. The footsteps echoed through the darkness, steadily getting closer, until he could finally see a figure approaching. At first, they were nothing but a blur, but then, slowly, their features got clearer.

If Aleksander hadn’t had centuries of mastering his self-control, he would have gasped. ‘Luda?’ he asked, eyes raking over her. She looked just as she had the last time he saw her, though thankfully without the blood. She still wore the same clothes and still had the same kindness in her eyes.

She placed a gentle hand on the side of his face, and Aleksander couldn’t help but lean into her touch. Luda was the first woman he had ever truly loved, and when he closed his eyes, it was almost like the last few centuries had never happened. He still felt the same warmth, the same safety, the same urge to protect that they both had shared.

He still felt the same love.

‘Aleksander,’ she whispered as she brushed her thumb over one of his scars. ‘What have you become?’

He opened his eyes but didn’t step away. How could he?

Wanting truly did make one weak.

‘What I had to become,’ he said. ‘To help our people.’

Luda smiled sadly. ‘And did you?’

A thousand memories played through Aleksander’s head. Grisha, safe and happy in the Little Palace; those same Grisha dying bloody on the battlefield; Genya, caged and frightened as she awaited execution for someone else’s sins; Alina, bathed in sunlight where there used to be only darkness – his darkness.

‘I don’t know.’

It was an honest answer, but for the sake of his sanity, he had to believe that he had helped, even if only as a catalyst. He had to believe that Alina would continue his plans in her own way, and maybe she would even succeed without being twisted by anger and revenge.

He looked down at Luda. The memory of her death had been a driving force for him for so long… would Alina suffer the same fate after the death of her tracker? If she did, he had least given her something to aid her in her fight. Aleksander Morozova may have died, but the Darkling would always live on in some form or another.

Luda lowered her hand, but Aleksander quickly gripped it in his own. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, words earnest and a little desperate. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.’

Luda squeezed his fingers comfortingly. ‘My death was not your doing. But I forgive you.’

Peace washed over him at her words – the kind he hadn’t felt since the night Alina had kissed him in his rooms. ‘What happens now?’ he asked. Luda was no Saint, but he couldn’t have asked for a better guide to the next stage of his existence… or to the end of it. Whatever happened next, he was ready for it.

Luda smiled softly and used their joined hands to pull him further into the darkness – further into the unknown.

‘Now, we go.’

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Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48032854

#the darkling #the darkling x luda #darkling prompts

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wilwywaylan · 1 year

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Some very self-indulgent Kazling because why not (and for @crow-songs-at-dawn too), staring Kaz as the precious Sun Summoner. Because I love imagining their dynamic, the snark and the battle of wits and wills that would ensue, and because it’s hilarious.

And that coat. That lovely coat.

I’m so glad that I got the looks of Ben Barnes right ! :D

[image ID : The Darkling and Kaz Brekker are standing face to face. The Darkling / Alexander Morozova, a white man with black hair combed back, a black beard and black eyes, is wearing a black shirt with metal clasps and a black kefta with silverish embroidery. He’s holding the large fur collar of his coat, that’s resting on Kaz’s shoulders. Kaz, a white man with black hair cut very short on the sides and blue eyes, is wearing a black kefta with golden embroidery. His hands are resting on the handle of his cane, and he’s looking down, smiling very slightly. There are two scars, one across his mouth and one across his eyebrow. The background is brown-grey. end ID]

#shadow and bone #kaz brekker #the darkling #alexander morozova #kazling #I love them #the dynamic #Kaz has so many interesting dynamics #aaah #my Drawings

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theotherwoman23 · 2 years

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Well, I think we can't skip the fact that everyone can only imagine Alexander Morozova as Ben Barnes. Don't lie, I know you do too.

#booklr #leigh bardugo #shadow and bone #grishaverse #netflix shadow and bone #sab #the grishaverse #ben barnes #alexander morozova

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hottpinkpenguin · 1 year

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Seafoam (part 6 - finale)

Series masterlist Warnings: major character death, canon divergence

Genya had never seen anything like it before. The entire mountaintop was charred as if by wildfire, although it was impossible to see how a fire could have started on the windswept, snow-covered mountain. When the scouts had found her - breathless and terrified, prattling on about black flames on the top of the mountain - she’d been content to write them off as the half-lucid ramblings of soldiers on the brink of starvation.

It wasn’t until the scouts had told her that they couldn’t locate the General and showed her the note that they’d found in his tent that she’d known it was him. Genya had hardly spoken to Aleksander in the last few weeks, but she’d seen signs of wear on him. He’d begun to lose the swagger of leadership that had kept him so competently in control of the shattered Second Army. His shoulders were stooped and his skin pallid in a way that was deeper than hunger. And when she’d seen the note - Dawn. Mountaintop. Come alone. - she’d known exactly why he’d gone to the top of that mountain. It was for her, his unnamed lover. Genya knew that the Fjerdans held her, but she hadn’t spoken with the General about it since that night after Private Tovin returned from his ill-fated mission to Os Alta. That had been almost three weeks ago.

Genya had mobilized what was left of the Grisha and taken all those who could fight up the mountain. There were only a few dozen of them, and even fewer than that were in real fighting shape. The climb up the mountain had been arduous and several had been forced to turn back rather than brave the rock scramble that led them above the crest of the mountaintop. By some stroke of luck, they hadn’t encountered any Fjerdans, although their scouts had found fresh tracks for a battalion of druskelle leading up the mountain. There was only one passable path that led both up and down the peak’s side, so it should have been impossible to miss any of their enemies. Yet none came. It was as if they’d vanished into thin air.

The mystery of the vanishing druskelle was quickly answered when they’d climbed the final rock scramble and clambered over the edge of the steep cliff that marked the top of the mountain. Unlike some of the other peaks nearby, this mountain had a flattened top. A mix of thick, pine-dense forests identical to the carpet of pines that stretched out for miles from the foot of the frozen mountain-range ringed a large clearing that marked the center of the mountain.

The clearing was blackened, as were all the tree trunks. A few of the low-hanging branches still smoldered, and a noxious smoke hung in the air, stinging her eyes and nose. The acrid smell of burnt flesh mixed with the fresh scent of pine in a nauseous combo. As more and more exhausted Grisha poured into the clearing from the single-file mountain pass, their expressions all flickered through a predictable progression. Relief at finally having reached the summit after a punishing climb. Confusion at finding obvious evidence of a wildfire amidst the frozen landscape. Comprehension as their eyes raked over the burnt mounds dotting the clearing, all that remained of the druskelle battalion the scouts had tracked up the mountainside. And lastly: curiosity.

Everyone’s eyes came to rest on the two figures in the dead center of the clearing. Surrounded by a pristine ring of white snow, Genya recognized the General in a kefta as black as the charred earth nearby. Cradled in his arms was a sickly looking woman, dirty and bloodied. The two were intertwined like vines, clinging to each other.

As the others began to recognize the General, their expressions became somber. Their eyes stayed glued to the two figures in the center of the clearing, although no one made to approach them. Genya felt herself beginning to tremble as a weighty silence settled over the mountainside. Realization was sinking into her bones, into those of her compatriots around her. The druskelle battalion they’d tracked up the mountain had been the same force that had effectively cut off their retreat through the mountain range’s southern ravine. With the druskelle all dead, their escape route back to Os Alta was clear. The majority of the Fjerdan army remained firmly dug in at their winter camp on the northern plateau, a five days’ hard march. Although the Second Army was tattered, exhausted, diseased, and utterly broken, hope flamed in their hearts for the first time in months. They could leave. They were no longer penned in like chattel waiting for the merciless Fjerdan winter to pick them off, one by one. They could go home.

Genya’s eyes swam with tears as she took a few halting steps towards the center of the clearing. The charred earth crunched like brittle bones beneath her feet. The thought of returning to Os Alta and to Ravka after such a hopeless stretch of dying by inches felt like a drug. It sang through her veins, and her mind immediately turned to happy thoughts of David. She could almost taste their future stretching out in front of her. Years of happiness, far from the cold and the horrible memories of the mountains. Genya’s heart felt as if it would fly free from her ribs when she realized that she and David could even welcome children, one day. She saw sunsets over southern seas, horseback rides through mist-drenched forests, sumptuous meals in front of a roaring hearth. But with each step closer to the two figures in the center of the clearing, the cost of that future was becoming more apparent.

It wasn’t until she was close enough to touch him that Genya knew the General was dead. Like the woman in his arms, his skin was rigid to the touch and his lips and fingertips were turning blue. His hands framed the otkazat'sya’s face as if he’d been brushing her hair from her brow the moment life had left his body. Their foreheads were touching, and they both had their eyes closed, their faces smoothed and peaceful. Genya’s tears spilled down her cheeks with a broken whimper when she saw that the General was smiling. It was a soft smile, but even in death it seemed to erase the lines of hunger, pain, and grief that had been permanently etched in his face from the war. Her face an exact mirror of the General’s gentle expression, the otkazat'sya’s lips were slightly parted and curved.

Genya crouched next to the two figures, muttering a prayer to the Saints for safe passage of their souls. She realized that she still didn’t know the name of the woman in the General’s arms, the woman that he’d lived for and died with, so she prayed simply for the Sankta Otkazat'sya and moi severenyi. As if in answer, Genya felt the softest breeze brush the cooled tears on her cheeks. She smiled and wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, wanting to commit this image of her General to memory. It was the happiest she’d seen him since they’d left Os Alta so many months ago.

After a few moments, Genya felt a strong hand come to rest on her shoulder. She stood, letting David wrap his arms around her. His warmth felt stronger somehow, and for reasons she couldn’t explain Genya knew at that moment that they would survive. Perhaps it was the faintest hint of spring’s thaw in the breeze that danced through the clearing. Maybe it was the image of General Kirigan, his hair and kefta as black as the burned mountaintop, with his beatific smile holding a woman she’d never known but would never forget. Perhaps it was David’s warmth against her or the spark of life in the eyes of the Grisha around her.

A few of the Grisha stepped forward, their hands outstretched towards General Kirigan and the otkazat'sya in his arms. Genya spoke, calmly but with confidence.

“Leave them,” she commanded. The Grisha shot her surprised looks but obeyed immediately, stepping back from the bodies. She felt a strange sense of confidence settle in her voice as she spoke.

“They stay where they lie. They couldn’t choose to live together, but we can grant them an eternity together in death.”

The Grisha nodded quietly. A few of them sank to their knees in the snow next to their General, murmuring quiet prayers or words of farewell. One by one, as each concluded their goodbyes, they turned and headed back down the mountain. Genya knew they were all going back to the camp to prepare for the long trek southward, back into Ravka. It would take them the better part of two weeks to cross the border, but it was an unspoken understanding that, with the druskelle cleared from their path, home was finally within reach.

The sun was sinking towards the horizon before the last of the Grisha began their descent down the mountain. David, Ivan, and Genya were the last to leave, each saying a private goodbye to their General. They descended the mountain in companionable silence. Although there was much to look forward to, all three of them found their thoughts dwelling on the commander they’d left in the clearing atop the mountain. He and the otkazat'sya he’d loved were exactly as they’d been found that morning, save for one small difference. Genya smiled down at the piece of seafoam fabric she’d taken out of the General’s hand. Although it was dirty with age and had some of the otkazat'sya’s blood dried on its threads, the color was bright and true. With the fabric tied loosely around her wrist, she let her thoughts drift away from the mountaintop and towards the future…

thanks for reading!

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we-were-born-to-be-free · 7 months

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#shadow and bone #the darkling #aleksander kirigan #draco malfoy #aleksander morozova x reader #six of crows #kaz brekker #draco malfoy x reader #alexander morozova #draco malfoy imagines #zade meadows #mafia romance #haunting adeline #spicy books #dark romance #aaron warner #kenji kishimoto #shatter me series #shatter me

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lillianastras · 3 years

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“Cake Night Talks” -- The Darkling x Reader

Pairing: The Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Some spoilers, I think, but other than that just some teeth-rotting fluff Summary: The Darkling and his second in command share a cake after one of the royal parties in Little Palace. Although sharing might be an exaggeration.

A/N: An attempt has been made. I finished Shadow and Bone and I obviously loved it, so you ended up getting this little blurb. It was loosely inspired by the writing of @artemisausten here, so if you have the hots for the Darkling like I do, I cannot recommend her enough

“You have cake all over your face,” he stated the obvious the moment he walked into his room, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  “Can you blame me?” His second in command paid him no mind, not bothering neither to stand up from the top of his desk, nor to stop chewing. She took another bite from the piece in her hands, eyes turning to meet his. “There was barely any food in the damned fete. I’m starving.”

The Darkling sighed, long fingers moving to undo the buttons of his kefta slowly, one by one. It was truly exhausting, the king and his constant whims were getting on his nerves. He could understand her for leaving early, slipping into his chambers before the end of the party.   “You left me there with all of them.” If it was not the king, it was the noblemen. It was ridiculous, how all of them were lining up to talk to him every time, trying to explain to him the art of war, commenting his tactics, as if to prove they were more capable of leading the Second Army than him.   

She snorted. “Can you blame me for that either?” A disgusted frown was making its way to her face and not even a bite of the cake could get rid of it. “The queen was especially annoying tonight. She kept asking me all those misleading questions, trying to figure out whether we’re lovers or not.” She wrapped her lips around her thumb, sucking the sweetness of it. “It’s ridiculous. Why does everyone assume that just because I’m your second and I’m a woman, we’re sleeping together?”

“But we are sleeping together.”

“Yeah, but not because I’m your second!”

He chuckled at that. “True.” He took the already undone kefta off his shoulders, folding it in two and putting it on the back of the chair. Making his way to the woman, he tilted his head, reaching out to wipe a smudge of cream from the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “Don’t take it personally. She just wants a scandal, something to gossip about in her free time.” He followed her action from before, licking the cream from his finger. “You’re right. Maybe the next one is going to be a little better.” “The next party?” “The next queen.” It was his turn to snort then. “You are putting a little bit too much faith in them, love. Aristocrats always have loved spreading rumours. Always will.”

  “Always,” she repeated and it was her turn to tilt her head, her eyebrows knitting together, but the gleam in her eyes gave away the tease in her next words. “Do you sleep with all your seconds in command, General Kirigan?”  

“Only with one in the past two hundred years.” He admitted with a grin, hand running up her thigh, playing with the edge of her kefta. She hadn’t even bothered to take off her uniform before she attacked the cake with her hands. “Hell of a woman.”  

“Hmm,” she mumbled, appreciating the touch and reaching out to pull him closer by his belt. “To keep a man interested for two hundred years,” she dragged out, her face inching closer to his. He leaned closer on automatic, his nose almost touching hers. “Who is she? Should I worry?”

  “I should,” he murmured, finally leaning in and pressing his lips to hers in a ginger kiss. “She makes her way in the darkness, in the middle of the night.” Another kiss. “Unseen.” Kiss. “And steals my belongings.” He kissed her one last time, pressing his forehead to hers, hot breaths intermixing. “The worst nightmare of every cake in Little Palace.”

She giggled at his last words, and pressed her lips to the edge of his jaw, then rested her head on his chest. “I saved you some, actually.”

“Of my own cake? How noble of you.”

She huffed, but still nuzzled closer to him, as if it were possible. When she didn’t give a coherent answer to his tease, he ran his long fingers down her neck, earning himself a shiver from his lover. “Do you want me to take out the plates and the forks, or we just finish what you started?”

“To hell with it. I’m already messy.”

He chuckled quietly, and leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Perhaps we could get even messier after that, huh?”

He could feel the grin against his shirt and she finally moved to look up at him, mischief evident on her face. “Oh dearest,” she cooed, “that’s what you should have started with.”

#ben barnes #ben barnes imagine #alexander morozova #the darkling #general kirigan #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #six of crows #ben barnes fanfiction #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #the darkling imagine

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amsgrey · 2 years

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Warmth In the Cold

Original OC x Aleksander Morozova

Warnings: bad writing lol

Snow days at the Little Palace were Natalia's favourite days. She would forget all duties and snatch Genya away from her tasks to force her to walk in the snow with her. Her husband, General Kirigan, never understood her fascination with the freezing weather. To Natalia it was the only time she could excuse not doing her duties.

As Princessa of Ravka, twin to Crown Prince Vasily, she was expected to be around the Grand Palace and attend all her mothers many tea and lunch parties with all the other noble women of Os Alta. Up until a few years ago Natalia lived away from the capital for “safety”, when she returned on her 18th, she was married to the General of the Second Army as a means of controlling him. Not that it worked, the two only acted married when at fetes or balls. The general still left for weeks to travel around Ravka for the war effort, being married to the princess didn’t change a thing.

Although the two slept in the same bed at night, whenever Natalia woke in the morning, Aleksander was gone, left for meetings and war strategies. Natalia refused to let herself get lonely, she became fast friends with Genya and spent most of her time in the Little Palace with her.

The Little palace was filled with so much more life and happiness than the grand palace, especially on snow days. When the sky opened and dumped inches of snow around the palace, Natalia and Genya would make their way to the training courtyard with most of the other Grisha and play in the snow with Botkin.

Today Feydor had been excused from his duties for the morning and he joined them in the courtyard as they watched the other younger grisha play in the snow. Natalia loved watching the younger grisha snow fight, it was almost as if they werent being trained to fight and kill for a war their king had inherited.

Natalias husband’s was away at the northern boarder with Fjerda, rallying troops and what ever else he was required to do. Natalia had grown used to the quietness around their shared chamber, the only noise coming from the guards quarters down the hall.

Botkin had wrangled the grisha around him to start a loose training lesson in the deep snow, he had the inferni clear the snow in a loose circle, allowing for grisha to spar without tripping over the snow. The three friends watched the sparring from across the courtyard. Beside her, Natalia could hear Genya mumbling about the cold.

A heartrender in a rich red kefta won his spar with the much smaller and scuriner tide maker than himself. The Corporalki around the courtyard cheered, making mocking comments amoungs themselves.

Natalia turned to Genya, “How can he celebrate beating a child half his size?”

A few of the grisha in the sparring circle turned to look at her, most of them despised her existence.

“Pick your next opponent!” Botkin roared, completely ignoring the whispers and frowns on the faces around him.

“Anyone?” The heartrender asked.

“Anyone!” Botkin replied, gesturing around him to the circle of Grisha.

“Lady Kirigan.”

Immediately the circle broke to make a path to where Natalia was standing, whispers went through the grisha.

Feydor turned to the lower ranking corporalki, just as he began to say something, Natalia interrupted.

“Are you sure?” She called to the man in front of her.

“Are you?”

Genya grabbed her arm, “Don’t even think about it Natalia, its not worth it.”

Natalia ignored her, she had been training with Botkin ever since she moved to the little palace, and before that when she grew up out of Os Alta she learned from her “dance instructor”.

Botkin seemed extremely pleased with the sparring match, he didn’t intervene or even attempt to change anyones mind, he knew Natalia could hold her own. The only disadvantage she had was she wore no Kefta, a way of showing her rank as a ‘rumored’ nongrisha.

Natalia gently closed her hands into a fist, holding them up before her and moving to face side on to the heartrender. Now that she was closer to him, she recognized him as Anatole, the heartrender that had been spending the last few weeks talking about how stupid and useless she was. Rumours didn’t usually get to Natalia, she was princess everyone in the country had an opinion on her without ever meeting her. But Anatole spread such foul language she had begun to grow irritated of his persistent lies. Anatole was at least a foot taller than she was, but he also had a massive tell of when he would swing a punch. He would always shift the heel of his left foot outwards in the slightest way when he was about to throw a punch, all Natalia ahead to do was dodge him until he grew tired of throwing punches then use his own weight against him to take him down.

A few minutes into the spar, Anatole grew angrier and sloppier because he couldn’t land a blow against the graceful princessa. Eventually, he dropped his arms in exhaustion, and Natalia moved close enough to land a sharp kick to the side of his knee, forcing them to buckle and making him land harshly on the ground. Natalia smiled, “Thank you for the practice, Corporalki.” She turned from the man, heading back to Genya to head inside and laugh about the mans arrogance.

She got a few steps away when she felt all the breath leave her lungs. Immediately she reached her hands to her neck in shock, suffocating against her will. Natalia could hear Genya shouting to her and she fell to her knees, on the snow under her, red drops stained the half melted snow. Natalia was all too aware of the warm blood that was spilling out of her nose and onto the snow, the intense burning in her chest as her body screamed for breath.

From all around her, the Grisha had started erupting, “Stop Him!” Many shouted, Feydor had advanced from the other side of the courtyard and was shouting, “Stand down, stand down now!”

Natlia fell forward as her body began to give up, Genya was at her side all of a sudden hugging her to her chest as her head swam. Corporalki had swarmed around the two, “Healer!” Someone shouted.

Feydors face was appearing above Natalia next to Genya, he reached out and placed a hand on her chest, she knew he was willing her to breath, trying to get her to fight for herself but in the moments she had been starved of her own will to breath she had forgotten how to draw in air. The sky above her and Genyas face shifted out of focus and Natalia slipped into the cold darkness of unconsciousness.

Genya and Feydor had felt Natalia’s body go limp, Genya had panicky tried to wake her friend, while Feydor quickly forced her lungs to inhale, willing her heart to beat. A Healer was ushered through the crowd to help Feydor. Then Natalia was being gathered in Feydors arms and rushed to her chambers to keep healing her. It took three healers to get Natalia's heart and lungs working for themselves, the eldest most experienced grisha healer had ensured Genya and Feydor, Natalia would wake in a few days, but her mind and body still needed to rest. In the meantime, news was sent to the Grand Palace and to General Kirigan, who happened to be on his way back from the north and forced his party to ride through the night when the news reached them. Although her husband was quick to respond to the news, Natalias parents and brother a stones throw away in the Grand Palace didnt react quickly at all. In fact, they didnt bother to come and check on her, instead relying on servants to pass on her condition.

General Kirigan arrived not two days after he received the news. Although the married couple would refuse to admit it to one another, they did truly care about the other. Aleksander left his party and horse at the gates into the palace grounds, himself and Ivan quickly walked the grounds to the Little palace and through the corridors to The Darklings chambers. At every doors entrance there were two guards, they let the general through with no issue. Aleksander was glad to see they had stepped up the security.

Walking through the doors into his and his wife’s shared chamber, he noted first Feydor and GEnya sitting close to the bed looking stressed and exhausted. Looking past them, he spotted his wife. She was slightly propped up against a plethora of soft pillows. Genya has brushed her hair off her face and from across the room, Aleksander could see how pale and clammy she looked, like all the blood had drained from her once rosy cheeks. Aleksander walked further into the room, Feydor and Genya jumped to their feet to greet him. Genya and the two heartrenders knew the general well enough that he let his guard down ever so slightly around them, they were all friends with Natalia and in extension himself.

“What happened?” He demanded, “Is she okay?”

The only news he had received on the way to Os Alta was that his wife had been attacked and she was ill.

Feydor and Genya shared a look, stuttering over their words to explain themselves clearly.

Ivan walked towards Natalia, he looked from her sleeping figure to Feydor and Genya, “A heartrender?” He asked incredulously.

Aleksander looked shocked, just the look of his frown sent the explanation spilling from Genyas lips. She didn’t fail to mention that the heartrender who had attacked Natalia was the same who had been speaking ill of her for weeks. Genya explained the whole thing, how fast it all happened but also how slow it felt watching Feydor trying to make Natalia breathe again.

“He stopped her heart?” Ivan asked when Genya had finished.

Feydor nodded, “He only stopped when Zoya sent him flying into a wall.”

Aleksander walked over to his wife’s side, the three grisha moving to allow him through. He gently soothed his hand over her hair, she was so still and pale Aleksader was confronted with the fact he might have been seeing her dead if not for Zoya and Feydor.

“Where is this Heartrender now?” Aleksander demanded, whoever he thought he was, trying to hurt his wife, he would pay the ultimate price.

“In the cells.”

Natalia breathed in a deep breath as she forced herself to open her eyes. Her shared chambers were cast in the soft glow of the evening sun and the fireplace in the right of the room. In front of the bed, the doors to the war council room were slightly ajar. Natalia could hear her husband and Ivan speaking with other Grisha Second Army Corporalki. Natalia couldn’t hear them from where she was, but she didn’t really care to. On the side table to her left there was a small glass of water. Natalia tried to reach out for it, but her hand shook so badly the glass slipped and landed with a thud on the hardwood floors. The talking in the other room ceased, then Aleksander was opening the door, a frown on his face.

Natalia looked up at him, “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

Aleksanders frown fell, he entered the room, gently shutting the door behind him. “It’s okay,” he said, he walked over to her side of the bed, picking up the glass and putting it on the far side of the side table before waking to the water pitcher across the room and pouring her a new glass. Aleksander returned and sat on the edge of the bed, he gently held the glass to Natalias lips and helped her drink it.

“Thank you,” she sighed, relaxing back into the pillows behind her.

The light from outside the windows has started to get darker, the fire's orange glow casted over Aleksanders face as he watched his wife.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

Natalia sighed, “Tired.”

There was a pause between the two.

“How was your trip?” Natalia asked quietly.

Aleksander quietly chuckled, “That's what your asking?”

Natalia looked away, “I thought you weren’t coming back for another few weeks.”

“Things were wrapped up early,” Her husband turned to face the window where the sky hard turned dark, “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”

Natalia reached out for her husband, she forced her weak muscles to grab Aleksanders hand, “I shouldn’t have fought him,” she sighed trying to get comfortable in bed but being unable to make her tired body comfortable, “It was foolish.”

“He shouldn’t have attacked you,” Aleksanders eyes darkened, “He wont be a problem anymore.”

“My husband, the hero,” Natalia poked her husband playfully.

“You gave Feydor and Genya one hell of a fright,” Aleksander laughed.

“Oh,” Natalia tried to sit forward, Aleksander snaked hus hand around her back and helped her sit forward, holding her close to his own body to support her. “Oops.”

The general laughed, he could see in Natalia’s eyes she was growing more and more exhausted. “Do you want to lie down?”

“Only if you join me,” Natalia responded, gesturing to his side of thier large shared bed. Aleksander smiled, he gently supported his wife with one arm while moving the pillows behind her so that she could lie down. Natalia watched him walk around the bed and put out the candles and lanterns around the room. He walked back to his side of their bed and took off his embroidered Kefta and boots then peeled the covers off the bed to join his wife. Natalia smiled, gently scooting her tired body to lie her head on her husbands chest.

“Thank you,” Natalia sighed, she felt safe with her husband, for the first time in a while she felt the warm feeling of love again for her husband. She could almost forget they were in a forced loveless marriage.

“Goodnight,” Aleksander whispered, gently soothing Natalia's hair as she fell asleep.

#aleksander morovoza #alexander morozova #shadow and bone #original oc x darkling #darkling fix #darkling imagine #the darkling #general kirigan #original oc #Grishaverse #Genya safin #feydor kaminsky #pre shadow and bone timeline

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