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thebadgerclan · 10 months

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Queen of the Ice

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Requested by Anonymous

Summary: Before his wedding, a ball is to be held...

In one week, Prince Nikolai Lantsov would be a married man. He had yet to meet his bride-to-be, but he knew that she was the daughter of a rather powerful nobleman. He knew that his marriage would strengthen the crown’s power, but he knew little else. Nikolai had been told the very basics about his future wife: she was intelligent, she enjoys reading, she was well-mannered, she had a sizable dowry. He wouldn’t even meet his bride until a few days before the wedding!

Queen Tatiana had decided to throw her son a party before his wedding; a masked ball. Invitations were sent out to all members of the Ravkan Court as well as the gentry. You are cordially invited to the Grand Palace for a celebration for His Most Royal Highness, Prince Nikolai Lantsov, Grand Duke of Udova, before his upcoming marriage. Costumes are encouraged to be as elaborate as possible.

And the attendees heeded their instructions. Guests appeared as a variety of animals and mythological creatures, some being so bold as to come dressed as members of the royal family. The guest of honor came dressed as the privateer, Sturmhond, an exact replica of his signature teal frock coat and his hair Tailored to a reddish-orange shade. The mask he wore was the visage of a fox, calling to Sturmhond’s other nickname. Needless to say, the guests loved it.

You had not been explicitly invited to the ball, but hadn’t not been invited. So, after your mother and father departed, you pulled a gown from your wardrobe and called for your friend who also happened to be a Tailor. In half-an-hour, you were transformed into a version of a Fjerdan sylph of the ice. Your hair had been Tailored to an icy white, your gown was of the palest blue, glittering when you moved, tulle and silk flowing behind you when you walked. Your mask was diamond and sapphire, obscuring your face from the nose up, and your jewelry matched.

“So,” you said, spinning before the mirror. “Am I ready for the Palace?” Your friend smiled, pride flickering in her chest both at her work and at you, her dearest friend, a soon-to-be princess. “You’re ready for the world, Y/N,” she said, ushering you out the door and to the waiting carriage. When you arrived at the Palace, you slipped mostly unnoticed into the ballroom, all the guests masked, and quickly joined the throng.

Nikolai saw you immediately, and he cut his way through the crowd to you. “Pardon me,” he said when he approached. “But I do not believe I saw you enter earlier.” You spun around and came face to face with a man dressed as Sturmhond. You only had to look at him for a moment more to realize that this was Prince Nikolai, your fiance. “There are easily over a hundred guests here, sir. How can you be sure you didn’t see me?”

“Sturmhond” smiled, taking your hand in his. “Because, you are by far the most beautiful woman here. And I remember beautiful women.” Heat crept up your neck, and you felt your lips curling into a smile. “You can only see half of my face,” you replied, and “Sturmhond” laughed. “Yes, but it’s more than that. You carry yourself with such grace and poise, such confidence. Beauty is more than appearance, Miss…?”

You playfully retracted your hand. “Oh, now that would defeat the purpose of a masked ball, wouldn’t it, ‘Sturmhond’?” He smiled wider, once more taking your hand. “I suppose it would…isdrottning.” At your questioning look, he elaborated. “Isdrottning is Fjerdan for ‘ice queen’.” You smiled yet again. “Observative for a pirate.” “Sturmhond”’s face lit up in a wicked grin. “I’m a privateer, I’ll have you know. Now, would Her Majesty of the Ice care for a dance?”

You squeezed the hand he had taken. “I would, privateer.” He led you onto the dance floor, where dozens of other couples were also pairing off. This hadn’t been part of your plan for attending the ball, but it was certainly turning out to be beneficial. You had been told very little about your fiance: that he was kind, that he liked to read, that he liked the sea. When you asked for more information or to meet him more than a few days before the wedding, you were brushed off.

But here you were, dancing with the man you were set to marry, and he seemed every bit a caring, kind gentleman. He took genuine interest in you, listened when you spoke, laughed at your jokes, and took every effort over the evening to be in your company. Nikolai Lantsov was a man you could be happy with, and when you left the Palace, you left feeling lighter than you had in months and even excited for your wedding. There was more to learn about the prince, of course, but you knew firsthand that he was a good and honorable gentleman.

Nikolai, on the other hand, left the ball feeling low and dejected. The woman he’d spent most of the evening with had been everything he could have wanted in a woman: smart, kind, caring, funny, and stunningly gorgeous. Hours had felt like minutes in her presence, and Nikolai barely dared to name the feeling she had sparked in him. But as he lay awake, tossing and turning with visions of his Queen of the Ice in his head, he couldn’t deny it. He had fallen in love, a week before his wedding, with a woman he would never see again. At least he didn’t know her name, that would be a comfort. Nikolai would never know the identity of the woman who had stolen his heart.

***

Your Most Royal Highness, I present Lady Y/N L/N, daughter of the Duke of Adena.” Nikolai stood as you entered the room, bowing his head to you. You were beautiful, yes, but his heart yearned for the woman at the ball, his sylph of the ice. You curtsied, but rather than lower your gaze to the floor, you looked him in the eye, a smirk on your face. “Lady Y/N,” Nikolai said, taking your hand and kissing it. “It is an honor to meet you.”

He was expecting a greeting along the lines of “The honor is mine, Your Highness,” but your response completely floored him. “Don’t you recognize me, Sailor Boy?” Nikolai blinked, attempting to process your words. Was it…? No, there was no way. “I beg your pardon?” You laughed softly. “And here I thought I wasn’t so easily forgettable.” The way you held yourself, the way you spoke…your voice, it was… “Isdrottning?” he asked, and you dipped into another curtsey.

“At your service, privateer.” Nikolai broke out into a massive smile, fighting the urge to pull you into his arms. “It’s truly you?” “It is, Your Highness.” “Oh please,” he said, taking your hands and kissing them. “Call me Nikolai. I had no clue you were invited to the ball.” “I wasn’t, strictly speaking. I had my friend Tailor my hair and sneak me in.” Nikolai smiled. “But why?” “Well, I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. And I wanted to see what you were really like.”

Your fiance cocked his head. “What I’m really like?” You nodded. “I’d been told next to nothing about you, and it was killing me. And… you’re exactly what I dreamed you’d be like.” The prince felt himself blush. “Can I be honest, Y/N?” “Please.” “At the ball, you were everything I dreamed of finding in a woman. And it broke my heart, because you weren’t mine. But now… Saints, I have no words to tell you how happy I am. Because in one night I fell in love with you.”

You gaped, feeling butterflies explode in your stomach. “R-really?” “Yes,” he responded. “And I will spend the rest of my life trying to show you how much.” You felt yourself blush, squeezing his hand. “I think I already fell for you, Nikolai.” He beamed, and once he realized the two of you were alone, he tipped your chin up and kissed you. “I’m afraid we can’t speak long,” he said, his lips brushing against yours, unwilling to pull further away. “But only two more days until I can kiss you as much as I please.” Nikolai kissed you again, and you returned the kiss with equal fervor. “I can’t wait.”

#nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone reader insert

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rainbow-vals · 1 year

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HE’S NIKOLAI LANSTOV MAJOR OF THE TWENTY-SECOND REGIMENT SOLDIER OF THE KING’S ARMY GRAND DUKE OF UDOVA AND SECOND SON TO HIS MOST ROYAL MAJESTY KING ALEXANDER THE THIRD BUT HE’S ALSO BEEN KNOWN TO ANSWER TO SWEETHEART OR HANDSOME AND HE’S A PRIVATEER NAMED STURMHOND.

#shadow and bone #six of crows #patrick gibson #sturmhond #nikolai lantsov #nikolai #ravka #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone cast #king of ravka #crooked kingdom #leigh bardugo

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witchcraftandgeekness · 10 months

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Exclusive photo of the king of Ravka, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Soldier of the King's Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and the Bastard of the Barrel.

#nikolai lantsov #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #grisha #griahaverse #shadow and bone netflix #sab #six of crows #soc #king of scars

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stromuprisahat · 3 months

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An older man broke through the lines, wheeling his horse around to confront Sturmhond. With a start, I recognized Colonel Raevsky, the commander of the military encampment at Kribirsk. Had we crashed so close to town? Was that how the soldiers had gotten here so quickly? “Explain yourself, boy!” the colonel commanded. “State your name and business before I have you stripped of that uniform and strung up from a high tree.” Sturmhond seemed unconcerned. When he spoke, his voice had a quality I’d never heard in it before. “I am Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Soldier of the King’s Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and second son to His Most Royal Majesty, King Alexander the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne, may his life and reign be long.” My jaw dropped. Shock passed like a wave through the row of soldiers. A nervous titter rose from somewhere in the ranks. I didn’t know what joke this madman thought he was making, but Raevsky did not look amused. He leapt from his horse, tossing the reins to a soldier. “You listen to me, you disrespectful whelp,” he said, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, his weathered features set in lines of fury as he strode directly up to Sturmhond. “Nikolai Lantsov served under me on the northern border and…” His voice faded away. He was nose to nose with the privateer now, but Sturmhond did not blink. The colonel opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a step back and scanned Sturmhond’s face. I watched his expression change from scorn to disbelief to what could only be recognition. Abruptly, he dropped to one knee and bent his head. “Forgive me, moi tsarevich,” he said, gaze trained on the ground before him. “Welcome home.” The soldiers exchanged confused glances. Sturmhond turned a cold and expectant eye on them. He radiated command. A pulse seemed to pass through the ranks. Then, one by one, they slipped from their horses and dropped to their knees, heads bent.

Siege and Storm- Chapter 8 (Leigh Bardugo)

Someone knows how to make an entrance!

I want to see him and Aleksander trying to outdo one another with their dramatic performances, then violently make out, when they're unable to agree which one did it better.

#Grishaverse #Siege and Storm #S&S Chapter 8 #grishanalyticritical #Nikolai Lantsov #Sturmhond #What if/AU/...#Darkolai #The Darkling #V #Grisha trilogy #books #quotes #Leigh Bardugo

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autumnbabylon · 1 year

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Zoya and Nikolai were meant for each other

Pachina, which is where Zoya lived when she was a child, is in Udova, and Nikolai is the Grand Duke of Udova.

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya #nikolai #zoyalai #king of scars #rule of wolves

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sleepless-crows · 1 year

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when nikolai says i am nikolai lantsov major of the twenty-second regiment soldier of the king's army grand duke of udova and second son to his most royal majesty king alexander the third ruler of the double eagle throne may his life and reign be long what then

#i will scream #i still cannot fathom it #this guy is my favorite character ever #i will simply pass away when i see him #nikolai lantsov #netflix shadow and bone #siege amd storm #grishaverse #also this is a handful to say that must be said in one breath because nikolai

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naushtheaspiringauthor · 4 months

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~Child Of The Storm~

Nikolai Lantsov x OC

Image by - @brokendreamtale2

Warnings- none

A/N- Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

Taglist- @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @sirisuorionblack @nadeleine123n

Ch-28 ~Boy under the guise~

Anaya realized that her, Alina and Mal were the only ones with an utterly shocked expression. None of the crew members seemed remotely surprised.

“You have a Tailor,” Alina said.

Sturmhond winced. “I am not a Tailor,” Tolya said angrily.

“No, Tolya, your gifts lie elsewhere,” the strange captain spoke soothingly. “Mostly in the celebrated fields of killing and maiming.”

“Why would you do this?” Alina asked

“It was essential that the Darkling not recognize me. He hasn’t seen me since I was fourteen, but it wasn’t something I wanted to chance.”

“Who are you?” Mal asked furiously.

“That’s a complicated question.”

“Actually, it’s pretty straightforward,” Alina said, springing to her feet. “But it does require telling the truth. Something you seem thoroughly incapable of.”

“Oh, I can do it,” the estranged boy said, shaking water from one of his boots. “I’m just not very good at it.”

Anaya stood her ground, her flace plastered with utter confusion. Alina and Mal were already asking the questions filling up her brain.

“Sturmhond,” Mal snarled, advancing on him. “You have exactly ten seconds to explain yourself, or Tolya’s going to have to make you a whole new face.”

Tamar sudenly leapt to her feet. “Someone’s coming.”

“ They all quieted, listening. The sounds came from beyond the wood surrounding the lake, hoofbeats, a lot of them, the snap and rustle of broken branches as men moved toward them through the trees.

Sturmhond groaned. “I knew we’d been sighted. We spent too long on the Fold.” He heaved a ragged sigh. “A wrecked ship and a crew that looks like a bunch of drowned possums. This is not what I had in mind.”

The trees parted, and a group of mounted men charged onto the beach. Nearly thirty soldiers of the First Army. They were the King’s men and heavily armed.

“Easy, Summoner,” the boy whispered to Alina. “Let me handle this.”

“Since you’ve handled everything else so well, Sturmhond?”

“It might be wise if you didn’t call me that for a while.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s not my name.”

The soldiers cantered to a halt in front of us, the morning light glittering off their rifles and sabers. A young captain drew his blade. “In the name of the King of Ravka, throw down your arms.”

Sturmhond stepped forward, placing himself between the enemy and his wounded crew. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Our weapons are at the bottom of the lake. We are unarmed.”

“State your name and business here,” commanded the young captain.

Slowly, Sturmhond peeled his soaked coat from his shoulders and handed it to Tolya.

An uneasy stir went through the line of soldiers.

Sturmhond wore a Ravkan military dress. He was soaked through to the skin, but there was no mistaking the olive drab and brass buttons of the Ravkan First Army. The golden double eagle that indicated an officer’s ran

Just who is this strange boy? Anaya wondered

An older man broke through the lines, wheeling his horse around to confront Sturmhond. His demanor showed that he would've been a General.

“Explain yourself, boy!” he commanded. “State your name and business before I have you stripped of that uniform and strung up from a high tree.”

Sturmhond seemed unconcerned. When he spoke, his voice had a different quality. “I am Nikolai Lantsov, Major of the Twenty-Second Regiment, Soldier of the King’s Army, Grand Duke of Udova, and second son to His Most Royal Majesty, King Alexander the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne, may his life and reign be long.”

Anaya's eyes widened, this time her surprised expression was clearly visible.

Shock passed like a wave through the row of soldiers. A nervous titter rose from somewhere in the ranks. Anaya had never seen the second Prince herself but she could not believe that the dubious pirate, Privateer, would be hiding such a grand identity. The General did not look amused in any way. He leapt from his horse, tossing the reins to a soldier.

“You listen to me, you disrespectful whelp,” he said, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, his weathered features set in lines of fury as he strode directly up to the boy.

“Nikolai Lantsov served under me on the northern border and...”

His voice faded away. He was nose to nose with the privateer now, but the boy did not blink. The colonel opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a step back and scanned Sturmhond’s face. His expression hastely changed from scorn to disbelief.

Abruptly, he dropped to one knee and bent his head.

“Forgive me, moi tsarevich,” he said, gaze trained on the ground before him. “Welcome home.”

The soldiers exchanged confused glances.

Sturmhond turned a cold and expectant eye on them. He radiated command. A pulse seemed to pass through the ranks. Then, one by one, they slipped from their horses and dropped to their knees, heads bent.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mal muttered.

Anaya had seen many unnatural things, but this, was extremely strange. But it did seem quite plausible. She'd heard that the King's other son hadn't been much at home. He was studying in some university at Ketterdamn, and had later joined the First Army. Maybe this was why he'd barely ever been home? she wondered.

She tried to search her mind for any memory of the Prince, when she slightly remembered. The Winter Fete when she was eight, the boy had came to the Little Palace along with his family. He had....golden hair, that shone in the lights. Light, hazel eyes. He was constantly being ragged around by his brother and didn't seem interested in the event.

Was it possible that the Captain truly was him?

Sturmhond. Storm hound. Wolf of the Waves.

“Rise,” commanded the boy, Prince. His whole bearing seemed to have changed.

The soldiers got to their feet and stood at attention.

“It’s been too long since I was home,” he boomed. “But I did not return empty-handed.”

He stepped to the side, then threw his arm out, gesturing to Alina. Every face turned, waiting, expectant.

“Brothers,” he said, “I have brought the Sun Summoner back to Ravka.”

Anaya was shocked to the core. But her reaction wasn't as extreme as Alina, who decided to punched him in the face.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov fanfiction #nikolai lanstov #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lantsov x oc

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ferahntics · 1 month

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🕰️ for Udova!

🕰️ (Clock) - What would a Dreamy Gear version of them look like? What sort of accessories would they have? What kind of role do they play?

!!! Ended up going for a more steampunk eske aesthetic but regardless, here is the she <33

Don't think her roles would change too much, but maybe she'd dabble in technology more than medicine~

(( Ask game here! ))

#love me some clock-like vibes tho #had wawku shrine's theme in my head #mine #my art #udova #kirby #kirby oc #ask game #startistdoodles

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fandomscraziness22 · 1 year

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duplicitous - a Kanej gala heist

i freaking loved this idea from our artist @bubble--berry, and their art is soooo amazing!!!! so i’m glad we got to write this! co-authored by me and @desidarling123

Inej docks The Wraith in Ravka’s port, only somewhat happy to be on land. It’s been almost a year since she’s been in Ravka, and the sight of so many joyous Grisha out and about is a bit startling. The nation’s port is busy with preparations for the Harvest Festival set to commence in a mere two days.

She’s here at Kaz’s request – though calling the letter a “request” would be like saying Jesper “mildly enjoys a game of chance.” Inej has known Kaz long enough to determine what is a request versus what is a demand for her unique skill set. And this letter, short and to the point, had been a thinly veiled command for her to meet him at the bustling port of Udova, ready for a job. Inej knows the newly appointed Queen and her prince consort are to be at the festival – however, that is where her knowledge starts and ends. And if there was one thing Inej didn’t miss about working with Kaz, it was his complete lack of willingness to divulge information that most would deem necessary knowledge.

Nevertheless, her crew is a well-oiled machine, and Inej is soon ready to disembark. Many of her crew members have family in Ravka, and she’s given them an extended leave to go and visit them. Those who aren’t from Ravka have either made plans of their own or have been invited to visit their friends’ homes, so Inej is left to her own devices for the week of the festival.

According to Kaz’s very brief letter, her identity is that of ‘Isla Rooj’, a lesser-known Mercher who has traveled overseas from a small town in order to witness the first festival under the country’s new monarch. She is to meet him at a tavern called the Ptitsa-Sinitsa, where they will be staying for the duration of the festival. As she makes her way through the busy streets, she wonders what Kaz could possibly plan to steal amidst the Ravkan festivities.

Well. That’s not exactly right. She’s got a few ideas, actually. Inej imagines the job has something to do with the amount of powerful and influential people gathering in the city. These gatherings bring with them a horde of secret information, not to mention loud displays of wealth and power.

But Kaz has most of the Barrel afraid of him already, and he’s working his way steadily through the few who still disobey, so… it’s not like he’s lacking anything, on his end.

So it must be for someone else. But who?

keep reading on ao3

Inej supposes she’ll have to get her answers when she sees him. And despite her annoyance at the circumstances under which it’s happening, her heart skips a beat at the thought of being with Kaz again. It’s been far too long since she last docked in Ketterdam, having been kept away by the constant slavers she’s been thwarting and the terrible weather of the open seas. She’s successfully kept in touch with Jesper and Wylan through their joint letters to her, and with Nina, who, despite often being out on assignments, keeps Inej updated whenever she can. There’s even been a scarce exchange of letters between herself and Kuwei detailing the latter's continued studies as an Etherealnik within the Little Palace. But Kaz has been oddly silent during her most recent voyages. His letters have been few and far between, and whenever they do come, they’re often undetailed and impersonal, a far cry from his first few letters to her. Not that Kaz had ever been forthcoming in that way, either in writing or in person, but his letters had become much more distant, which had hurt her more than she’d care to admit.

It still doesn’t change the fact that her heart belongs to him — an undeniable truth she had realized long ago – and that she’s excited to see him, even if she does also want to smack him over the head with his own cane. Kaz can be obtuse when it comes to understanding his own feelings, and even worse with expressing them. Though the two of them have progressed at their own speed, Inej can’t recall anything bad happening the last time she saw him that would prompt such a stark change in his behavior. Kaz Brekker may not always need a reason, but he sure as hell always had one.

I’ll just have to find out for myself, she thinks as the sign for Ptitsa-Sinitsa comes into view. The tavern itself is packed, much like the various buildings around it, with people from all roads of life coming to see the Queen’s festival. Inej skirts around a group of excited Ravkans and notes a few poorly-disguised Fjerdans on the edges. Of course, an event like this would be crawling with foreign spies. None to worry about yet, but she vows to keep an eye out anyways.

There’s also some Kaelish folk around, evidenced by their bright hair and loud voices ringing out over the crowd of people eating and talking.

Finally, she spots Kaz at a table near the back with a plate of smoked cod and skillet bread and heads towards him. He’s wearing a hat she knows he hates, but refuses to get rid of. All the better a disguise, she supposes with a sigh. Kaz looks up from his food, and although his face doesn’t change, the edges of his eyes grow softer at her approach.

“Isla, good. You found it,” he says in greeting. Inej smiles warmly at the sight of him, her overwhelming happiness at seeing him in the flesh overriding her annoyance for the time being.

“Of course. It wasn’t too hard, your instructions were quite clear. Did you have a good journey?” she asks, sitting down opposite him. His body relaxes, a sight Inej doesn’t see often, though she knows he’s still on high alert to their surroundings.

“Tolerable. I took Rotty with me, as he’s the best sailor I’ve got now, and the man wouldn’t shut up about how he needed to be back in two weeks’ time for the annual plink-drop competition.”

Inej rolls her eyes. “Trust Rotty to stick to routine. He loses every year, I’m not sure why he bothers to play anymore. One would think six straight years of losses would make the whole thing not enjoyable, but alas.”

They fall back into familiar territory with ease, chatting harmlessly whilst they eat, all too aware of the many eyes staring into the backs of their heads and ears tilted ever-so-slightly in their direction. Once they’ve had their fill, Kaz guides her to their room where they retire for the evening. It’s definitely one of the nicest places Inej has stayed in for a heist of any kind, with a double bedroom, a small lounge area in the front, and a balcony looking out over the port.

Once they’ve inspected the room and secured all entries, she takes a seat next to Kaz on the plush red couch. “Who’s bankrolling this one?” she asks without preamble.

“Our friend, the demon.” Kaz’s voice is dry, but Inej can sense the humour in Kaz calling someone else what he himself has often been named. “He’d like us to relocate a foreign dignitary's documents.”

“Your friend, you mean. I’ve not become as well acquainted with Nikolai on the sea or land, despite his many roles in his country.” Kaz has kept her informed of the former king’s whereabouts, such as he knows them, but news travels slowly at sea (as opposed to rumors which spread like wildfire), and it hasn’t been a top priority for Inej.

“In any case, he asked me to get some documents a Fjerdan official will be carrying.” Kaz’s face is set into scheming mode, and it once again makes Inej’s heart stutter. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed seeing him in his element; a slight smirk on his face and a mischievous glint in his dark eyes.

Inej shoves that thought away. Not the time, she admonishes herself. “What kind of documents?”

Kaz eyes her carefully, as though hesitant to say. It’s a strange look on Kaz; he’s never hesitant about anything. Careful, yes, but not dubious. Not like he wants to hide the information from her.

Inej keeps her gaze steadily locked with his, unwilling to back down until he relents. “It’s the instructions for a drug to render any individual catatonic in seconds. They plan to use it in hunting Grisha, and selling them to slave traders in Ketterdam.”

Saints, she thinks. Her mouth goes thin, mind racing, because of course things wouldn't stay good for her. She’s been bringing down slavers and saving people with surprising speed and efficiency (surprising only to those who don’t know the Wraith from Ketterdam’s rooftops), and her name is getting around through rumors. It makes sense that the twisted people who trade in human lives would look for new ways to get easy captives.

“Is that why you didn’t inform me in your letter?” Inej asks, half hoping that he will catch on to her annoyance about his lack of general communication in the last few months. Kaz nods in answer to her question, and Inej decides to let it go for now, sitting back against the couch in contemplation. “I assume you have a plan,” she says, and Kaz nods once more. “Tell me.”

“The Harvest Festival begins in two days. The plan is, we sneak in as guests and find the official with the documents. My plan is to steal them, leave in its place instructions for a … friendlier alternative, so as to not arouse suspicions, and make our getaway.”

“So simple,” Inej says with raised eyebrows. She’s used to Kaz only sharing parts of a plan, so it is a miracle that she even gets that much of an outline all at once. (The mention of a friendlier alternative, one she somehow doubts is as friendly as he implies, also has her curiosity piqued). Still, she knows he’s got backup plans galore, and Inej trusts him implicitly.

Kaz gives her a begrudging twitch of his lips. “For now, yes. We have two days to find clothes and fill in some additional details. Get some rest, and we can begin in the morning.”

The next two days pass in a blur of planning, laying low, and shopping. The formal gala that is set to open the Festival requires nicer dress than the two Dreg members usually wear, and Inej gleefully picks out a range of horrific colors and patterns for Kaz to try on (which he declines in a variety of ways: with an eye roll, a smirk, a sarcastic comment, or outright disgust).

His reactions do nothing but spur her on, and for those small pockets of time, she is simply a girl shopping with a boy she likes; she’s living a future she had only imagined for herself as a small child in her family’s caravan, excited for a whirlwind romance with the perfect man as only a little girl can imagine.

The thing that truly drives her fantasy home, however, is the moment Inej spots an honest-to-saints lehenga, one of her people’s favorites for fancy occasions. She’s never worn one, having been deemed too young by her mother before…everything. Traditionally, they are worn most often at weddings and official gatherings, held once every five years where all the Suli come together to celebrate and tell stories. The sight reminds her so vividly of her mother that her heart aches as she reaches out to grasp at the fabric. The lehenga she holds in her hands is made of well-made silk, embroidered with intricate floral and paisley resham. It is obviously worn, but has remained in good condition.

Inej runs her fingers over the pieces and marvels at how this seems made for her. It’s her favorite shade of purple, the detailing done in neat rows. The lighter fabric of the shawl flows over her, and Inej trembles as she realizes that there’s nothing stopping her from buying and wearing this to the festival tomorrow. When she tries it on in the small stall of the dressmaker’s, her mind works quickly to pick out places for her knives, how the skirt doesn’t limit her motions, the way she can tie the shawl part of the lehenga in specific places to keep it from being a hazard if she should need to run.

A thought occurs to her then. She remembers distinctly the coy look the older girls would get once dressed in their lehengas, the heavy blush riding on their cheeks, as they’d wait for their lovers to see them decked out in their finest, playing teasing games for minutes if not hours on end, before not-so-secretly escaping with them into a dark corner somewhere, far away from the rest of the caravan.

It’s such a silly, random memory to come to mind, but suddenly it’s there, in her heart: a desire to have Kaz look at her like a boy in her caravan once might have – as she could have been, maybe, if her life had turned out the way it was supposed to.

Yes, she has made her peace with who she’s become, the feared Pirate Queen of the Seas. But in this moment, she feels a strong pull back to who she could have been. Inej feels strong and beautiful in the lehenga, and although she thinks Kaz already knows that about her, she wants to hear him say it. She wants it to be acknowledged openly, for him to take off a piece of armor that he’s kept clutched firmly to his chest since she left Ketterdam.

So Inej buys the lehenga, keeping the purchase a secret from the boy she came with. He’s never bothered about her clothes before, and he doesn’t break that streak when they reunite, both carrying bags with their new clothes. She drags Kaz along to buy jewelry to complement the outfit, forcing him to purchase new cufflinks for the suit he’d picked out for himself. For her part, Inej is immediately drawn to a set of golden earrings and a matching tikka, and doesn’t let herself second-guess the decision, purchasing it quietly while his eyes are elsewhere.

She can be devious in her own right, and finally, this festival is something she can look forward to.

They do not – cannot – enter the gala together. Cannot, because, as Kaz had explained to her, should their covers come into question, both need some modicum of plausible deniability.

(She hates that he’s right about that.)

But maybe that’s for the better. Without him by her side as she gets ready – he leaves their shared room early, claiming one final errand to run without her – she finds herself able to gather some much-needed nerve. To put on her battle armor, so to speak.

It helps to start with her knives first – she carefully straps those to her legs, murmuring prayers to each Saint as she fixes them in place.

(The lehenga, however tempting and beautiful it might be, is still a hard sell. It reminds her of the home she used to have, the life she used to live. But she’s determined to reclaim that piece of her that was stripped away.)

So Inej runs her fingers over the embroidered edges once more. The obvious care that was put into the details suffuses her with a much-needed sense of calm.

Yes, it would’ve been nice to have him here, to help her with this part.

But she’s always known, deep down, that this is something she has to do alone.

So she pulls herself together. The skirt goes on first, her trustworthy knives disappearing beneath the heavy layers. She works the blouse on next, lacing up the back of it securely, ensuring no wandering fingers will take it apart. Finally she wraps the dupatta – a gorgeous, shimmering, delicate thing – over her shoulders. A fitting last touch, the cherry on top.

She’s relieved to find that she still looks and feels like herself, beneath it all. Even if that’s not what anyone else will see.

It paints a perfectly duplicitous picture, in the mirror. A glittering, distracting facade on Ravkan soil.

And if this night goes the way she hopes – no one else will ever have to see what lies beneath.

—---------

So she enters the gala alone.

Well, correction – the gala doors have not officially opened yet, so she’s here in the large banquet hall that serves as a makeshift waiting room alone.

That is unusual in and of itself, but that’s by design. She doesn’t look like a working girl (not that any would have been allowed in at this kind of event), but she does pique some immediate interest amongst the well-dressed attendees in the room. Inej firmly ignores it, choosing instead to take in her surroundings.

It’s a magnificent hall, if darker than she’d expected. But the low light will work to their advantage, and it gives the event an air of mystery. The floor is a rich, dark wood (perfect for hiding stains of all kinds, she thinks grimly) and the furnishings are ornate and well-worn. There are small candles everywhere, reminding her, counter-intuitively, of the inside of a church.

If only this could be as safe.

Inej turns now to scan the crowd, and mercifully, most eyes have since fallen off of her, the thrill of novelty long gone. But she can pick out a few who stand out, their movements not quite casual. And just like that, her previous suspicions are confirmed: they’re not the only ones with their own agendas on the loose tonight.

That’s fine, expected really, but it adds a lovely new wrinkle to their mission: not only do they have to swap out the documents, but they have to make sure they’re not observed by anyone else looking to do the same thing. Of which there are likely several.

That’s her job for tonight, and just as well. She can handle it, easy.

Now as for the man of the hour. Their diplomat – where is he?

The Fjerdans are difficult to miss, generally speaking. She’s looking for someone who, by Kaz’s description, is a tall, blonde, older gentleman, one who’s covered in military regalia. Currently, nowhere to be seen.

That’s when, of course, she feels what can only be described as someone’s gaze on her.

Inej turns, and there he is: Kaz Brekker, looking quite unlike she’s ever seen him before. He’s dressed in a more traditional Ravkan-style suit-coat, a stormy grey-black color, but it’s the look on his face that stops her where she stands: there’s a hunger, a greed on his features she’s never seen before. Never directed towards her, anyways.

It’s so much coming from him, a man who never tells her bloody anything if he can avoid it, but it doesn’t scare her like it probably should. Instead, it sends a thrill down her spine, tilts her world on its axis.

He’s looking at her as she could have been, yes, but he doesn’t see it that way, she realizes. There’s no bitterness in his eyes, no lingering regret over what had been taken from her.

No, for once there’s just pure, unadulterated want from the boy she loves, the feeling it evokes is every bit as magical as those starlit caravan nights she’d always dreamed of.

And yes, maybe that exact dream had been stolen from her past, but every choice she’d made since had brought this part of her life back to her, even when she’d thought it impossible.

The world kept changing, just as they both had. This could change, too.

It’s what emboldens her to draw closer to him, all covers be damned.

He meets her as if he can read her mind, the two of them moving into a secluded, dark corner. (Some things, perhaps, always stay the same.)

But this part will be different. Because she has a question she needs answered, and she knows when to pull her advantage.

“Why didn’t you reply to my letters?” She doesn’t let her gaze leave his, can feel the way he suddenly stiffens beneath it. His eyes avert from hers, on some faraway point on the wall.

“I wrote you letters,” he responds slowly.

But it’s not a complete answer, not really. He’s leaving out something, he most certainly is. So she waits until he looks at her again, eyebrows raising in an unspoken question.

Kaz’s eyes bore into hers, daring her to look away, but Inej has held many a contest with him, and he can’t scare her away this time. Once, the challenge might have frightened her, but she knows his feelings are something he doesn’t feel comfortable expressing outright unless she pushes.

So she does.

“Why didn’t you reply to all my letters? I heard more from Nina than you this past voyage.”

A brief moment of hesitation, then –

“I didn’t think you would want to hear from me.”

Inej snorts. “I always want to hear from you, even when you’re being an insufferable idiot about it.”

The boy lets out a small laugh, and the sound lifts Inej’s soul into flight. Kaz doesn’t laugh easily, and she treasures each and every one she creates in him.

He takes a deep breath, as if steeling himself for whatever admission he is about to make. “I…thought that hearing from me might be too much of a reminder of the life you left behind. I didn’t want to pull you under the weight of Ketterdam once more.”

She’s startled, not having expected that at all. It’s complete nonsense, of course, but she’s touched that Kaz is worried about that. Inej knows he has his demons, and his course of action is to fight through them by sheer force of will and by conquering the streets of the city that never gave him an inch, but she isn’t like that.

“My demons are strong, yes...but Ketterdam has never been a reminder of that,” she shares, willing him to realize that when she said Ketterdam, what she really means is Kaz Brekker.

The boy who saved her from a living nightmare, who had bought her freedom with the last of his funds, and who had been willing to let her leave him behind to fulfill what she was born to do.

But she’s not leaving him behind. Not now, not ever again. Not even if he wants her to.

“You are a part of the life I want to keep, Kaz,” she says simply. “So don’t keep yourself away from me.”

“Or what?” he says, and though there's a challenge in the low pitch of his voice, she can also see the beginnings of a smile on his lips. It’s a look that makes her want to do to him what those older girls would do with their clandestine lovers, mission be damned. One day, maybe.

“Or I’ll have to steal you away, of course,” she retorts, and there’s a fully-formed smile on her face, one she’s certain doesn’t hide her inner thoughts in the slightest. “After all, I learned from the very best.”

Around them, the crowd starts moving with a shout – the gala doors have finally opened, praise the Saints! – but neither pays it any heed.

Kaz nods once, gaze never leaving hers, before slowly moving his arm upwards to hover it in the air between them in an offering. Not everything, but enough.

As long as he reaches for her, she will always reach back.

So Inej slowly, gently wraps a henna-covered hand around his outstretched arm. She feels Kaz stiffen momentarily before forcing himself to relax, feels a warm surge of pride at the effort made.

He’s doing this for her. They both are.

So together, arms linked, they push through the heavy wooden doors and enter the gala.

It’s finally time for real work to begin.

But, Inej knows, there’s no one else she’d rather have at her side.

#six of crows #soc #kanej #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #gala #fancy dresses #fanfic #fanfiction #gvbbrmbfic22 #gvbbrmb22 #post canon #fluff #slight angst

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ilovefredjones · 1 year

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never not thinking about this

[ID: an excerpt from ruin and rising. it reads: ‘There was an awkward pause as I faced Mal. His blue eyes were vibrant in the gray morning light. The scar at my shoulder twinged.

“Safe journey, moi soverenyi.” He bowed.

I knew what was expected, but I hugged him anyway. For a moment, he just stood there, then his arms closed hard around me. “Safe journey, Alina,” he whispered into my hair, and quickly stepped back.

“We’ll be on our way as soon as the Kingfisher returns. I expect to see you all safe and whole in one week’s time,” Nikolai said, “and packing some all-powerful bird bones.”

Mal bowed. “Saints’ speed, moi tsarevich.”

Nikolai offered his hand and they shook. “Good luck, Oretsev. Find the firebird, and when this is over, I’ll see you well rewarded. A farmhouse in Udova. A dacha near the city. Whatever you want.”

“I don’t need any of that. Just...” He dropped Nikolai’s hand and looked away. “Deserve her.”’ END ID]

#every time mal calls alina moi soverenyi my heart squeezes so much #putting the barrier up between him and alina…… he’s nothing more but her servant…… he’ll bow to the girl he’s loved all his life…..#I DONT NEED ANY OF THAT. JUST DESERVE HER WAAAAAHHHHHH #i’m so mentally ill over these two it’s not even funny #they make me so fucking crazy #grishaverse #shadow and bone #malina

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mesillusionssousecstasy · 9 months

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Shadow & Bone 2x03 - “Like Calls to Like”: Quotes

“- Did you expect any less? It’s like you haven’t even met me. Years and years of designs and several dozen crashed prototypes. (Nikolai) - Crashed? (Alina) - I call her the Hummingbird. Next stop... destiny.” (Nikolai)

“- At least you’re on top of Pekka’s corporate holdings. (Jesper) - You don’t take down a lion by cutting off his tail. (Kaz) - You’ve been on safari when? We’re putting our lives on the line. (Jesper) - I thought you preferred it that way.” (Kaz)

“- Is Inej gonna be okay? (Kaz) - I wouldn’t call myself the most proficient Healer, but she’ll not be a permanent resident here. Not yet anyway. (Nina) - Technically, no one gets buried here anymore. When the firepox plague hit years ago, so many people died that the crematoriums all got backed up, so they had to float all the dead bodies in the harbor.” (Wylan)

“- Stop lurking. Come in or leave me be. (...) I protected you the only way I knew how. I taught you strength, cunning. But never compassion. I see my mistakes now, too late. (Baghra) - There are no mistakes, only lessons. We started this together. Now you’re making me finish it alone. I should’ve murdered the first king I ever met and taken his crown. A lesson. See? (Aleksander) - And the Little Saint? (Baghra) - I will find her. And when I do... (Aleksander) - There was a moment when you might have earned her love, instead of claiming her power. Another lesson? Or maybe just another mistake.” (Baghra)

“- I present Nikolai Lantsov, Major or the 2nd Regiment, Solider 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. (Colonel) - And in your own words, as I recall, the greenest and most useless grunt you ever had the misfortune of commanding. At your service. I wanted to return sooner, but not without her.” (Nikolai)

“- My brother isn’t known for his thoughtful decision-making.” (Nikolai)

“- I should also like to know if you discover anything that pertains to the connection between amplifier and amplified. For instance, if Alina had survived, might I be able to feel it?” (Aleksander)

“- My jaw feels much better now, thank you for asking. (Nikolai) - You can tell everyone you were punched by a Volcra. Be the least of the lies you’ve told. (Alina) - I thought we had the beginnings of a beautiful friendship. (Nikolai) - Friend don’t hide who they are from each other. (Alina) - You make it sound so simple. You do what you have to protect the people you love. I expect you have some experience with that. My reasons were much the same. As Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the throne, there was nothing I could do for the people I love. People of my impoverished, war-ravaged country. Sturmhond, on the other hand... (Nikolai) - Was a pirate. (Alina) - A privateer. How many times do I... (Nikolai) - How is that any more helpful than a prince? (Alina) - A prince is a songbird in a golden cage. A privateer has freedom to cultivate alliances, develop technologies, gather intelligence. Would you have gotten on my ship if I was flying the Lantsov flag. (Nikolai) - I might have set it on fire. (Alina) - Exactly. And I needed to find you. The country needed to find you. But you would have only trusted Sturmhond. Now, we tried once before. Sturmhond. Me. We were... I was responsible for hiring Kaz Brekker and his Crows. (Nikolai) - That was you? I suppose you’re responsible for the Fjerdan bounty as well?(Alina) - No. That is very real. As is my brother’s use of First Army against Grisha. That will stop now that we’re here, I promise. Welcome to the Spinning Wheel. My inventions workshop. It’s become something of a refuge for Grisha.” (Nikolai)

“- Why are you apologizing for something you’re not responsible for? (Zoya) - I know how it feels to lose someone you love. (Alina) - We all know grief. But that guilt, he instilled it in you to make you weak. But you’re the Sun Summoner, you can’t afford weakness.” (Zoya)

“- You’re gonna make me go in there, aren’t you? (Wylan) - Break-in’s the best part.” (Jesper)

“- Whatever this is, this blood feud you have with Pekka Rollins, I don’t believe it’s about some Saints-forsaken club. You are gambling with our lives and I deserve to know the reason. You owe me that much. (Inej) - I killed my brother.” (Kaz)

“- Look for his tells. Any signs of a weakness. (Kaz) - He doesn’t have any. He doesn’t feel pain. (Inej) - Not feeling pain is a weakness. He won’t know when to stop until you put him down.” (Kaz)

“- May Saints receive you and forgive what can be forgiven.” (Inej)

“- If she offers protection, Grisha will follow her, fear her. You want them to fear you. Fear is a powerful ally.” (Tamar)

“- You’re the one who’s afraid, Aleksander. Same as you were as a boy.” (Baghra)

“- We can try to stop this country from falling apart and tel the Fjerdans to shove their bounty up their ass in the process. (Nikolai) - How do you propose we do that? (Alina) - I bring you under the wing of the Royal Family, my name becomes a shelter to you and a banner under which we can enact change. (Nikolai) - Your name? Wait. This is a “proposal” proposal. You’re suggesting marriage. (Alina) - I’m not proposing a love match. Just a political alliance of Grisha and otkazat’sya. (Nikolai) - Well, that’s just what royal marriages are, aren’t they? Strategy.” (Mal)

“- Some cut in half. - It’s Kirigan, isn’t it? (Alina) - We haven’t been able to find his base camp... - No way he survived the Fold. (Mal) - He survived it before. Besides, he’s the only one who can do the Cut. Baghra, yes, but this is him.” (Alina)

“- Maybe we never get to marriage. An engagement signals a strong commitment to cooperation and it will allow us to enact meaningful change for Grisha and Ravka. I’ve seen what you both mean to each other. I understand if you decline, but I hope you weigh the options and consider the benefits. (Nikolai) - He’s... He’s completely insane. Marriage? Like I’m some kind of pawn. (Alina) - I’m surprised he walked out of here without you breaking his nose. (Mal) - I just want this, you know that. (Alina) - So do I. But there’s no us if we snuff it because we’re scrappy orphans who tried to go it by themselves. (Mal) - That’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? (Alina) - You know I’d lay down my life to protect you. (Mal) - Mal... (Alina) - Alina, you’re a living Saint. I might not be enough. You need all the help that Nikolai can offer. As do your friends in the Second Army and my friends in the First. Good people have crawled through the muck next to me and they don’t deserve to be Vasily’s pawns or Kirigan’s fodder. (Mal) - If I were engaged to Nikolai, it would have to look legitimate. You’d be 40 feet away in some line of soldiers, watching. (Alina) - All that matters is that we know what’s real. And what’s real is this. It’s your choice to make. Just know I’m with you no matter what you decide.” (Mal)

“- Actually, you’re walking away for dramatic effect.”

“- What weapon? - Suffering.” (Kaz)

“- I’ll admit disappointment. I always felt an affinity for her.” (Aleksander)

“- You’ve come back, Little Saint. I know you, my Alina. Like no one else ever will. You’re dreaming... that this country can still be mended. But once you realize that there can be no future between Grisha and otkazat’sya, I will be waiting for you... with open arms. Sweet dreams.” (Aleksander)

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone 2 #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone quotes #shadow and bone 2x03 #like calls to like #nikolai lantsov #alina starkov

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