#shadow and bone fanfiction
happy hunting ground - Chapter 1 - notanannoyingfangirl - Shadow and Bone (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
I just read this marvelous fic by @notanannoyingfangirl and I think it is criminally underappreciated, so for the love of God, click on this link and read it right now.
: I’ve been rereading the Six of Crows duology and my love for Dirtyhands has been reignited tenfold. Got the idea for the origin story of Kaz’s infamous cane from a post I saw a while ago and decided to turn it into a short oneshot, although I’m tempted to write a part two…
: 1017
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“How did the two of you even meet?” Nina asked around a mouthful of waffle. “I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”
You couldn’t help but smile fondly at the memory. Meeting Kaz Brekker - Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel - was something you thought about often. The memory was like an old photograph that you kept in your back pocket at all times so you could take it out and look at it whenever you wanted to, and it was worn and delicate because of this. Nina had a slight twinkle in her eye as you began telling her the story.
“I hadn’t been in Ketterdam very long, just a few weeks I think. I was young and I was in hiding, both of my parents lost to disease after a treacherous journey across The True Sea. To this day I don’t know how I managed to survive, let alone keep my identity a secret at such a young age. Fourteen is too young to know such grief, yet somehow I didn’t let it defeat me, it only made me stronger. Losing my parents helped me realise who I wanted to be: a girl who didn’t need anybody, a girl who would never again be weakened,” you took a sip of your sweet tea, relishing the taste. Nina always made the best tea. “I spent the savings I had on an apartment in the Barrel because it was the only place in Ketterdam where a fourteen-year-old could buy real estate without being questioned. Eventually, I gathered enough courage and enough resources to start my business.”
“Entirely unique wares,” Jesper interjected, flopping down into the empty seat next to you. “Made specifically to order for a very pretty penny.”
You smiled. “Exactly.”
“What kinds of things did people order?” Nina asked curiously.
“Bulletproof cloaks, silent pistols, knives that could cut through anything, even stone. You name it, somebody asked for it.”
Nina leaned forward in her seat, head resting on her hands. She was completely focused on you, desperate to hear the next part of your story. “And this is how you met Kaz?”
You nodded. “I remember it like it was yesterday. He knocked on my door at just gone midnight, dressed in an all-black suit and a matching hat that was far too big for his head,” you couldn’t help but giggle. “You have to remember that he was only fourteen as well and hadn’t quite grown into the role of Dirtyhands just yet.”
Jesper laughed. “I can’t imagine Kaz as a boy.”
“Neither can I,” Nina agreed.
“Well, he was. I let him in and asked if he wanted to take a seat, which he declined. Even then he was straight to the point. He asked me if I could make him a cane.”
Nina gasped. “No way…”
“I asked him what kind of cane he wanted - because nobody was coming to me for anything ordinary - and he told me that he wanted a cane that was specifically weighted to break bones.”
“Did you know who he was? Did you know that he was Dirtyhands?”
“I figured it out when he told me what he wanted,” You explained. “Anyone who was anyone in the Barrel knew about Dirtyhands and knew that he was the most ruthless lieutenant of The Dregs despite his age. I knew what he was capable of, what he’d done to earn his title, but to me, he was just a boy who needed a cane to walk properly, a boy that had turned himself into a weapon as I had. I understood why he wanted to turn his - how shall I put it? - his impairment into a weapon, and I was willing to help. I told him to come back in two days, and then I went straight to work.”
“I can’t believe you made Kaz’s cane!” Nina exclaimed. “I can’t believe I didn’t know that!”
“I think Kaz likes to pretend that he was born as Dirtyhands with that cane in hand,” you smirked knowingly. “He doesn’t like people knowing that there was a Kaz Brekker before the Barrel.”
Nina set about making another pot of tea. “So, what happened when he came to pick it up.”
“Well, for starters, he didn’t come with any kruge in his pockets,” You remarked bitterly. “He told me he wasn’t going to pay me for it, but that he had something much more valuable.”
Both Nina and Jesper rolled their eyes. “Of course he did. What was it?”
“An invitation to join The Dregs. He told me that my skills were invaluable and that if I agreed to join his gang I’d have a roof over my head, the opportunity to earn more money than I could even begin to comprehend and the one thing that I couldn’t seem to find no matter how hard I tried: security.”
“And you accepted?”
“I did. I hate to admit it but it didn’t take much convincing on Kaz’s part.”
“And here you are,” Nina beamed.
“Here I am.”
Little did you know, Dirtyhands himself was perched at the top of the staircase, the cane in question balancing across his legs. He had been listening to your account of how you met for the better part of half an hour, eyes squeezed shut as though this would enable him to travel back in time and actually relive the moment. To this day, you had no idea how much that day had meant to him, the spark he felt upon meeting you. If he hadn’t taken such a shine to you, he probably would have paid you for the cane, but he knew he couldn’t let you go once he’d met you. Not that he’d ever tell you any of this. Most days, he could hardly even admit it to himself and he much preferred living in a state of ignorant bliss, allowing himself to believe that he’d offered you a place within the ranks of The Dregs for investment purposes only.
It would be a cold day in hell before he told you how he really felt.
The Lantsov Emerald [Kaz Brekker x OC] - Chapter Seven (Anatasia)
Warnings: cursing, fantasy violence, family drama
The wind blew the curtains away from the window, which only caused shadows to fall on the woman’s face. She didn’t have the courage to be frightened. She had suspected that she had been followed. There was no real way for Ravka’s Princess Anastasia to escape, even if she wished she could. Her marriage would mean the safety of her country. They would not allow her to get away.
It didn’t matter that those sorts of arrangements had never worked in the past. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to marry.
“Your Highness,” the voice was not one that she expected. She had assumed that one of the Second Army would have been tasked to find her. She had thought they would have sent a Grisha to drag her back to the palace. She wasn’t exactly worth it, but at the same time they couldn’t risk a mortal man failing to deliver her.
The woman stepped out of the shadows. It was the same one that had been seated next to Kaz. Her eyes were kind, despite the obvious threat she possessed. Anastasia had no idea if she could trust her or not. Well, actually, she knew the answer to that. The streets were much like the courts of Ravka. None could be trusted, none could be expected to keep to their deals. She supposed that Kaz had sent the woman to kill her.
“You should return to the palace.” The woman said, her voice as soft as the wind. “Kaz will try to keep his bargain, but surely you realize how dangerous it is to cross the Fold. With or without a skiff.”
“I know,” Anastasia would not be afraid though. If Nikolai had done it, so could she. She would do anything if it meant seeing her brother again. “But I cannot allow my future to happen without my consent. If I stay, I risk never seeing Nikki again. I risk losing the only parts of myself that my family hasn’t destroyed.”
It was dramatic of her, but Nikolai would understand. She hoped he would anyway. There was a very good chance that Nikolai would think she was being a stubborn, selfish idiot who needed to rethink their priorities.
He wouldn’t exactly be wrong.
“Your future is happening, Princess,” the Suli girl stepped out of the shadows then. She was beautiful, like an image of a Saint that Anastasia was supposed to pray to. She wondered how the girl had ended up working with Mr. Brekker, why she was so cautious over this job. Surely, there had been other jobs. Other dangerous positions. “It would be stupid to think you can run from it.”
She clenched her jaw, counting like Vasily had taught her. Her eldest brother may have been useless but he’d always made sure that she and Nikolai knew how to keep up appearances. It was that or be an utter embarrassment to him. Even now, she could not believe that her eldest brother would do anything if it did not benefit him. Maybe it was wrong of her, maybe he felt more for his siblings than he had ever shown. But Anastasia did not believe it for a second.
“I’m not running from anything. We’ll be back before my birthday. You’ll get your payment and all will be well.” Anastasia had never believed that anything bad could truly happen to her. She’d been protected by the Second Army and her brothers her entire life. The dangers of the Fold were not present in her mind. Nor were the dangers of Kerch.
Nikolai would have a heart attack if he ever found out just how reckless his sister had become in his absence.
“You’ve never been told no, have you?” The girl raised her brow, giving Anastasia a look that she thought would kill her if the woman was Grisha. She supposed it was a good thing that she was not.
“No,” she answered truthfully. “Nor do I intend to start. I appreciate your concern, but I assure you that I know what I’m doing. As does your Mr. Brekker.”
“Kaz likes impossible jobs. You’ve just managed to give him one."
Before she could open her mouth to make a retort, the girl was gone. She didn’t wonder how it had happened. There was no telling how long the wraith-like woman had been doing this. There was no telling when she would come back either. All she was left with were her thoughts. Thoughts that were going a billion miles an hour, that were certain that she was making a mistake. But one that she could not back away from.
They spent a week waiting for something to happen. For anything to happen. Anastasia had felt as though she were going to go mad from waiting. She had never been forced to wait so long, unless it was word from Nikolai. Then she’d be forced to wait for months on end.
The only time she had seen Kaz Brekker and his friends was during meal times. She never sat with them, figuring they’d spend more than enough time together when the time came. Besides, it wouldn’t have been smart to draw any sort of attention to herself. She had no idea if they would figure out a way to reveal who she was to the entire pub or not, but she hadn’t wanted to risk it. It didn’t matter how far from them she sat, though, she always felt his eyes on her.
It was more than just a bit disarming. His eyes were like sheets of ice. She could feel the cold piercing through her, wrapping her in a vice that refused to let go. She wondered if the others felt the same. If they were each just as worried about what he might do as she was. Of course, she knew that was quite silly. They were clearly just as dangerous as he was. Kaz wouldn’t be the most dangerous person in his little gang. That would have been ill-advised.
Although, Anastasia did not know much about gangs or about whatever it was that the three were. They made sort of a miss-matched family in a way, but she was not yet brave enough to tell any of them that.
Those sorts of thoughts seemed to plague her mind more often than not nowadays.
"The Darkling is coming,” he didn’t make it sound pleasant as he sat down beside her. “Which means we’ve got our skiff.”
“And that he’ll probably recognize me,” she pointed out without looking at him. She didn’t need to see the ice-cold glare or the cheekbones that looked as though they were made of diamond. He was much more beautiful than her husband-to-be, which felt as though it were some sort of cruel and unusual joke. Why should a criminal be so fetching and a prince be … Not.
“It’s either risk this or go back home, Highness,” Kaz’s voice was gravel, his fingers wrapped around a pint as though it had insulted him. She wondered briefly about his rage. What could make a man so angry? So full of fire and brimstone when he could be no more than eighteen?
Anastasia glanced at him then, noting the slight furrow in his brow and the way his jaw twitched slightly. This bothered him more than he let on. She never would have noticed had she not been raised in the courts. Those small ticks had been the only source of amusement in the courts of Ravka. They gave away all the best gossip. As long as one knew how to accurately read them.
“Has something happened?”
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he gave her that ice-like glare. She hated the way it felt as though he were freezing her from the inside out. Hated how she wanted to tell him to go and fuck himself and a number of other regrettable words. She bit her tongue though. There was no point in angering the man who was taking her back to her brother. She highly doubted there would be another who knew Kerch and knew how to cross the Fold.
“If it puts us in jeopardy, I think it is my concern.” Anastasia had lived her life being glared at and told that something wasn’t her concern. She would not allow this boy to do the same thing. It was bad enough her brothers had done it throughout her life. The only ones who had ever told her no in any capacity, the only ones who’d cared for her.
Kaz stared at her. It would have made a braver person look away. But she was stubborn and had glared down generals who had wished to sacrifice Nikolai. She could stare into a dragon’s eyes if she needed to. What was Kaz Brekker? A crow without wings? Someone who could easily kill her but wouldn’t. Not if he wanted his full payment. Not if he wanted the impossible jobs.
“He’s got another piece of my puzzle,” it was cryptic yet it was all the answer she was going to get from him. She highly doubted he would tell her anything else until he assumed the time was right. It felt quite barbaric.
“And I suppose that means we’ll be risking our lives trying to get your puzzle piece and get to Kerch safely?” Her brow rose slightly, despite the fact that she was less surprised and more excited. What wonderous adventure awaited them? Would it be like the ballets had described? Would she one day hear a symphony composed about their triumphs and failings? She was getting too ahead of herself, she knew that. But adventure was far more exciting than she had ever dreamed it could be.
“Yes, it does."
Anastasia looked at Kaz, their eyes seeming to fight for control. She wasn’t entirely sure what they were fighting about. He knew what he was doing. He would be the most likely option to avoid them getting killed, but Anastasia did not want to give up her newfound freedom so easily. It was go along with his mad plan, which would likely end with the Darkling dragging her all the way back to the palace, or she would have to find some other way to Kerch. It was horrible to think that she would have to choose, horrible to think that there was even a choice.
"Fine. We’ll go with the Darkling. But I pray you have an idea on how to keep us from getting killed.”
At this, Kaz smiled. “Don’t trust your Saints, Highness. Don’t trust anyone.”
The following morning, they were ready. She was petrified. Something was bound to go wrong. She would be sent back to her mother and her father, who would then ship her to Fjerda before she had the chance to run away again. There wasn’t a chance of her ever finding her brother, of becoming someone who had lived her life to the fullest. She would just be a pretty princess trapped within a gilded cage. That was all she was good for.
Anastasia’s wind blew in the hair, blonde locks fluttering everywhere. She nearly looked as though she had been ripped from the pages of a storybook. Even if she did not know this.
Kaz glared at the strands that nearly brushed his face. “Highness,” his gravely voice was almost covered by the sounds of the crowd that had gathered and the wind. “You should hide yourself.”
“Why?” She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes the brightest they’d been in weeks. Her excitement was nearly palpable. “It isn’t like he’s going to see me in this crowd.”
“You stand out,” Jesper pointed out, wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger. The smile he gave her would have given her butterflies, had she not seen it on the son’s of lords all her life. “I doubt most people here have Fjerdian coloring.”
She turned pink as she pulled the silk scarf that Nikolai had once given her out of her pocket. She knew that she couldn’t help who her mother was, but she could wish that she had inherited some recessive gene. She thought she would look nice with darker hair. Besides, then she would blend in just a bit easier with her countrymen. Nikolai and Vasily could be the ones who stood out. They were the ones people cared about, after all.
She hid her hair away, feeling less herself than she had just moments ago.
“How exactly are we going to do this?” Anastasia questioned, glancing once at Kaz.
He appeared to be deep in thought. He was staring ahead, almost looking at nothing, but she could almost see the way his mind was working through some problem. Some issue that he had yet to solve.
“Mr. Brekker?” She tried again, wondering if she should shake him like she had to with Nikki and Vasily. Were most men like this? Going too far into their own heads and having to be brought out of it by a gentle touch. She knew that it was fine to do so with her brothers but she worried when it came to Kaz. It wasn’t like she knew him. He might try to stab her the moment she laid a gentle hand on him.
“Let him thing,” Inej’s voice was soft enough, but she could still hear the threat in the words.
Life in a palace had taught her the intricacies of threats and verbal manipulation. She’d been surrounded by people who had believed they knew best her entire life. What were these criminals? Just different versions of the same people she’d grown up with. Maybe she should have been more afraid. Or maybe she should have known that they would underestimate her. Just as everyone did.
Anastasia watched Kaz carefully, watched the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as his eyes traveled back and forth as though they were chasing each thought inside of his head. She didn’t want to admit that he was quite pretty when he was like this. All the hard edges of his face seemed to soften, his fingers tightened on his cane and she wondered briefly why. What ideas were in his head? What adventure was he crafting?
One day, she would daydream about that face. One day, she would think about it as she fell asleep.
Now, however, she just wished he would hurry it up and come up with something. They were quickly running out of time. If they didn’t come up with something fast enough, the skiff would leave without them. Her only chance at finding her brother would be gone. She refused to go to Fjerda without one final goodbye. For she knew the truth. Once her family shipped her off, they would forget her entirely.
The princess stared at the criminal. Her eyes never leaving his as he thought things that no one would ever know. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t trust his friends or the way he looked at her. As though she didn’t know anything. As though she was nothing more than a silly little girl.
“Quickly,” Kaz broke free from his thoughts, eyes landing on Anastasia. “Inej, get her on the skiff. Jesper, cause a distraction.”
“Don’t think I’ll need to boss,” Jesper stated as he nodded once towards the skiff.
Alina Starkov stood side by side with the Darkling. She had antlers around her neck and appeared to be a dog on a leash. Anastasia’s stomach flipped at the sight. What had General Kirigin done?
“Even better,” Kaz’s eyes sparked with mischief. “Everyone, hurry. Sneak around the back and don’t make a sound.”
The two criminals nodded to their boss. Inej ushered Anastasia away from the crowd, leading her around to the other side of the skiff. There were less people about, everyone having wanted to get a good look at the fools crossing. This side of the skiff mainly held supplies and few guards whose attention was on the sun summoner, not the four people heading towards them.
“Jes,” Inej murmured softly, “can you take care of them?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” Jesper’s eyes twinkled as he took his pistols from his belt.
Anastasia thought about screaming, about warning the guards that something horrible was going to happen. But she didn’t. She bit her tongue in order to stay silent. Jesper had to do it. He had to shoot them, the sounds of the crowd cheering and the Darkling’s yells covered the noise almost too well. Yet, Anastasia’s ears still rang. How had this happened? How had any of this happened? Was her desire to see Nikolai greater than people’s lives? Was her brother truly worth the price of selling herself to Kerch’s greatest criminals? Or was she just being selfish?
She knew that she was being selfish. She knew that Nikolai would hate her for it and yet - there was nothing she could do to stop it. She needed to see him. Needed to be as free as anyone else.
Jesper led the group onto the skiff, motioning with his hand for them to keep silent. It seemed redundant to her. He had just murdered the guards, had just acted as though his own self-interest were more important. Anastasia would say a prayer for them tonight, she would ask the saints to give them safe passage to the afterlife. She highly doubted she would ever be granted that same kindness. After all, she was unsure if she regretted the fact they were dead. They’d been standing in her way.
“Watch yourself, Highness,” Kaz’s gravel voice spoke in her ear. She felt the press of something hard and metal against her back, nearly knocking her off balance as she climbed over the edge of the skiff. “Wouldn’t want you to fall.”
Something told her that he wouldn’t mind it much at all if she did fall to her demise. But she bit her tongue, not wanting to anger the man who was the key to finding her brother. “I can manage myself just fine, thank you.”
His eyes glinted with something. An emotion that she didn’t know how to accurately describe. It wasn’t humor, not like she had ever known it at least. But nor was it anything that sent warning bells ringing through her. If anything, it sent a delightful chill down her spine. But for now, she would chalk that up to the wind that was blowing. She didn’t want it to be anything else. Anything else would be a distraction that she could not yet afford.
“We’ll see.” Kaz did not look at her as he tossed himself over the edge of the skiff, his bad leg almost going out from under him as he did. He straightened quickly enough, almost as though he didn’t want her to see.
Anastasia wasn’t sure that she cared about a bad leg. It made him seem almost human in a way.
Kaz Brekker couldn’t be human. The way he looked at her often made her think of demons, of monsters from fairytales that Nikolai had read her when she was younger. When he was still home. She was certain that her brother would see this man as a threat, as someone who needed to be as far from Anastasia as possible. But that did not matter now.
“This way,” Kaz hissed over his shoulder, not sparing a glance at the three who stood behind him.
Inej quickly flanked him, with Jesper following after Anastasia. It was almost as though they didn’t quite trust her to remain on the skiff. While she may have been frightened, Anastasia knew that running would just mean giving up any hope of a future.
Her future was what she was chasing. Not her brother. Not the feeling of freedom that she had craved for so long. No, she wanted something more. Something better. Something bright.
Kaz led the trio to a quiet alcove that was just big enough for the four of them to hide unnoticed. It would be a tight squeeze, but it was covered and out of the way. Likely, no one would think to check for them. He squeezed in beside Anastasia. She briefly worried that he would hear her heart rate increase. She assured herself that the only reason she felt anything was because of how tight the actual space was. She’d never been so close to a person in her life. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.
Anastasia felt as though she could not breathe. She felt as though her stomach was going to twist in on itself all while her heart imploded. She closed her eyes tightly, her hands clenched into fists that were hidden by her skirts.
The skiff took off into the darkness of the Fold before Anastasia could gather her courage. She could hear Inej murmuring prayers and the soft click of Jesper’s pistols. Kaz was the only one who was silent. She almost wanted to lean on him because of it. But she didn’t.
For the second that she had made the slightest move to, all hell broke loose.
Warnings: cursing, fantasy violence, family drama
Escaping the palace had been the easy part. Nikolai had shown her all the secret pathways when they were children. They had played games with them. She’d always wanted to be the fairy while he was a pirate or some sort of scoundrel. She had remembered those childhood days fondly throughout her journey to Kribirsk. If she hadn’t, she would have been forced to think about the pain in her feet and the fact that she had been foolish enough to not beg her father’s permission.
At least then she would’ve had a carriage.
Upon reaching the city, she had paid handsomely for fresh clothes and lodging. She had bathed, scrubbing her skin raw, and dressed in a plain sky blue gown. She had attempted to plait her hair by herself, although it appeared messy and uneven. Anastasia had never known just how hopeless she was until she had gone days without a bath or her lady maids.
Nikolai would have been so disappointed in her.
She was fresh-faced when she came into the bar. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes took in every single person in the crowded bar. She had thought enough to keep her traveling cloak. There was no telling what any of the patrons would do if they discovered that the princess of Ravka stood before them.
Years of dancing and lessons in how a princess should behave made her elegant. Even in the dusty, dirty bar, she strode forward as though she was on the dance floor. Each of her movements timed to the waltz of her heartbeat. She knew that her gait alone would be cause for attention. What simple maiden walked as though the ground was a dance floor? What young woman acted as though the world should bow before her?
Anastasia had not been around enough women to know what the answer truly was.
She felt eyes on her the entire time she ordered her drink. Kvas like Nikolai had drank with her before he had gone. She had gagged and refused to ever touch any again. The smell still made her wish to gag, but she had to keep up some appearance. She took the glass from the barkeep, thanking him with a small smile. Anastasia then turned her attention to the rest of the patrons of the bar.
Most of them were her subjects. They looked hardened, as though life had done them no favors. They had lines along their features that she had not seen amongst the nobility. They looked as though dirt had encased them their entire lives. Her heart ached for them. Was there nothing that she could do? She didn’t have the power to change things. That power lived with her brothers. She would never be Ravka’s queen.
Her eyes landed on a small group in the corner of the bar. A boy with dark hair and a wild grin was playing with a revolver, his fingers fiddling on the hammer as though he was waiting for a reason to use it. A girl in deep, navy blue clothes sat beside him. Her features hidden by a hood and her body was nearly as still as the breath that had caught in Anastasia’s throat.
At the head of their table sat the guard from the ball. His eyes scanned the room, landing on her. She wondered how many times those eyes had stopped someone in their place. He seemed sharper than he had that night. The angles of his face were made of glass and were likely to cut her if she touched them. He was far too handsome for his own good.
Without thought of her safety, Anastasia headed over to the three of them. She felt as though she was vibrating, excitement coursing through her veins as she neared the table. The man had lied to her. He had snuck into her home. She would find out why. That would be a good enough reason for the last-ditch effort for freedom.
“Mr. Vanzin,” she lowered her hood as she spoke, keeping her back to the other patrons. “I’ve been looking for you.”
An amused smile graced her features as she looked down at him. He played off the idea of being at ease, his spine straight and his eyes glancing at her as though she were nothing more than a mouse. But his hands told a different story. The black gloves he wore could not hide the way he tensed. His fingers clenched in a fist that she was certain he would not use on her. He wouldn’t dare to create a scene.
“Your Highness,” he sounded bored as he regarded her. Anastasia was uncomfortably reminded of most of the people in the palace. “Had I known you were serious about seeing each other again, I wouldn’t have left so quickly.”
The Zemeni boy offered her a chair beside him. She did not like the grin that stretched across his lips. It was as though he was one of the big cats her nanny had told her about at bedtime. She took the seat nonetheless. This would not be the first time that she had found herself in a den of lions. She dined with monsters each night. She had danced with several the night she had met Mr. Vanzin.
“I’m afraid that I was curious about you, Mr. Vanzin,” she crossed her ankles, every bit the picture of a perfect princess. Rasmus would be getting a beautiful bride. “After all, it’s not every day that one manages to break into the Little Palace. Nor when a guard lies directly to my face.”
“I assure you,” his gaze could have cut through ice, “nothing about that night was personal.”
“How could it be?” Anastasia’s eyes sparkled with amusement. It was like she was verbally sparring with Niki once more. He danced around the questions he didn’t want to answer, made her feel as though she would go mad half the time. “You didn’t even tell me your real name.”
The air surrounding them seemed to grow thick with tension. The girl’s hands had disappeared underneath the table while the boy was rubbing the handles of his revolvers. Anastasia would not allow them to frighten her. She would not be afraid and she would not back down.
“You’re clever, Princess," his tone was filled with venom. "You should be careful. That’s a good way to get yourself killed.”
“Is that a threat, Mr. Vanzin?"
"Only advice,” he told her before he drank the glass of kvas that had been in front of him. His eyes were dark as he stared at her. Heat flooded her cheeks but she did not let it phase her.
Anastasia had been around princes and lordlings her entire life. She had been around beautiful men and around men who had assumed they were beautiful. She had never let them phase her. She would not let this conman get underneath her skin. Even if it did feel as though she were drowning when he looked at her like that.
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take it,” she said, praying to the Saints that the dim of the bar was hiding her heated face. “Now, why don’t you tell me who you are?”
“So you can cart us off to a Ravkan prison?” It was a valid thought. Had she been any of the other members of her family, she more than likely would have called for help. But had she been anyone else in her family she wouldn’t have had to run away from her future.
Nikolai got to be the scholar, Vasily the king. All Anastasia was good for was a high bride price and to be her father’s favorite pawn. Her future had never been her own. It never would be.
“I assure you,” she leaned forward, strands of her hair falling into her face. “I would not turn myself in just to give you up.”
For a split second, his left eyebrow rose and an expression of confusion crossed his face. It was gone before Anastasia could blink. He wore his mask well. Almost as well as those in her court. Maybe he was like her. A royal running away from a future that did not exist.
“What do you mean?” The Zemeni boy piped up, his expression more confused than the other two. Although it was more amused than anything. “Turning yourself in just means you’re in as much trouble as we are.”
“It would appear that way, wouldn’t it?” She glanced at him, an amused smirk playing on her lips. “My family plans to ship me to Fjerda on the eve of my birthday. I’ll be wed to Prince Rasmus the week after,” she knew they didn’t need an explanation. Nor had they asked for one. However, she needed to say something. Needed to tell someone how angry she was about the entire thing.
Nikolai was gone. This band of criminals seemed to be the next best thing.
“You decided to leave your cushy palace and come after me as a result of your impending wedding?” His face remained impassive, something that she could not read. She hated that he wore the mask of a courtier. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or insulted.”
“I hope it’s impressed,” Anastasia kept her eyes on his, not daring to back down from the demon in front of her. “At least enough to allow me to know your name.”
“It’s Kaz,” he did not tell her his surname. She supposed it did not matter in the long run. It wasn’t as though she would be spending long with the man. He would more than likely give her up before she had a chance to find Nikolai. Before she had a chance to see the sea and feel the wind in her hair.
Anastasia wished for freedom. A caged bird sang a lonely song. The song in her heart wanted more than that. It wanted to be among the greats, among the waltzes that she had adored from childhood. She wanted to live her life as she chose. If only so she could spend every second of each day surrounded by the notes, feeling the melodies in her heart and the beats in her heart. It was not a dream that any of Ravka’s nobility would have understood.
None but Nikolai.
“Kaz,” his name felt rough on her tongue. The syllables were brutal and cutting. Just like the man in front of her. “Perhaps we could make a deal.”
“What sort of deal would you offer?” His tone was indifferent but the spark in his eyes told her that he was at least intrigued.
“I want passage. My brother is attending university in Kerch. I wish to see him a final time before I leave. I will keep the guards off of your back,” she said, keeping any passion or hope from her voice. Vasily had once told her that negotiating meant selling your soul. That having too much enthusiasm would give her opponent the upper hand. Maybe he’d had a point.
“We can avoid the guards without you, Princess,” she hated the way he said it. Like it was an insult instead of her honorific.
“I can also offer payment,” she said almost lazily. She slipped her hand into the pocket of her cloak, pulling out a ring that should not have been in her possession.
She tossed it onto the table. The emerald sparkled in the light, the face perfect in every way. The Lantsov Emerald had been the stuff of legend when she was younger. As she had grown up, she had realized that it was nothing more than just a pretty gem. One that her parents prized above all others, but a gem nonetheless.
It was supposed to go to Vasily’s future bride, but Anastasia had found it unfair. She had stolen it from her mother’s chest in the dead of night. Then, she had escaped using those secret passages. She had known the emerald would come in handy. Although she had assumed it would be used to prove she was the Princess of Ravka. Not payment.
Kaz looked at the emerald for a second before he looked back at her. “I’m listening.”
“The Lantsov Emerald has been in my family for generations. It’s Ravka’s greatest treasure. I’m offering it to you for safe passage to and from Kerch. Also, protection while we’re there. I’m willing to add three million kruge for you and your crew upon my safe return.”
She doubted that her parents had that much money. Or that they would be willing to pay that much for their only daughter’s safety. She was ruining their plans. But she didn’t care. They would ship her off without her ever seeing Nikolai again. They would sell her before she had the chance to find herself.
Kaz looked at her, his gaze was unyielding and colder than the ice of Fjerda. She wondered if he had learned to be cold or if it had just come naturally to him. Was he a monster of a man? Or a man who had become a monster? There was a story there. Something that was hiding beyond his eyes, beyond the facade he painted on. The facade that she only hoped was a facade. She didn’t know what she would have done had he admitted to it all being real.
“Do you expect any of this to be easy, Princess?” He questioned, watching her as though she held a dagger in her hand instead of a valuable emerald.
“No, quite the opposite actually.” Anastasia was not an idiot. She knew they would have to cross the Fold, find passage on a ship, and prey to all the Saints that she was not followed by her parent’s guards. She doubted they had even noticed her missing. The Sun Summoner disappeared at the perfect tie. She wouldn’t have been able to slip away without the distraction.
“We’ll have to wait for a skiff,” Kaz sat up straighter, almost as if to intimidate her. She matched his posture, not daring to back down for a single second. “No one knows how long that might take. A ship to Kerch will be another question entirely.”
“I assure you, Kaz,” the name stabbed her throat, “I am prepared to stay as long as necessary. I will not go to Fjerda without seeing my brother.”
“Your brother will not be easy to find. Do you know how many rich sons have been sent to university?”
“Nikolai will be quite easy for me to find.” He didn’t need to know that he would have an angry prince to deal with during all of this. Once Nikolai heard of her disappearance, he would be angry. He would claim she had no idea what she was doing. That she was being reckless and stubborn. That there had been no reason whatsoever for her to leave the safety of the palace. He would have told her that she was stupid for trusting a man who had broken into their home.
She would take every second of his tongue lashing. As long as it kept her from never seeing him again.
“I will have other business in Kerch,” Kaz stated as he watched her. He was looking for any sign of weakness. She knew that he would try to betray her. He would see her as another piece on his chessboard. Just as everyone else had.
She was no longer willing to be a game piece.
“I’m quite aware of that,” there was no reason for her to be the only job he’d take on. Even if she was offering more money than he’d probably ever see in his life. Money she did not know if she had. “Now, do we have a deal?”
He did not offer her his hand, unlike what she had seen other men do with her brothers. She didn’t know if she was supposed to be offended by the slight or not. Surely it had more to do with how he felt about the deal than anything to do with her. That or her nails were in a worse state than she had previously realized.
“The deal is the deal, Princess.” She wondered if she would ever hear anything else come from his lips. Would he call her by her honorific the entire time? Or would he loosen up? She didn’t think it was important enough to complain about it. No matter how grating it was to hear him use it with nothing but venom in his tone.
Anastasia picked the ring up from the table, giving him a kind smile. “You’ll get this once I’ve been returned to Ravka, safe and sound.”
Kaz said nothing, just nodded his head as she stood from the table. At least he knew better than to fight her on when he would get his payment. It was probably for the benefit of her peace of mind. If she trusted him not to slit her throat, then maybe she would be less likely to put up a defense. She didn’t know for sure.
“Enjoy your night,” she told the three, giving them a curtsey. Her skirts flourished around her, almost making her wistful for a night of dancing underneath the stars. “I expect to see you here tomorrow.”
“Of course,” he nodded his head once, looking at his crew instead of her. She wondered if they thought she was all talk. Surely a princess would run from danger instead of towards it. She should have been trapped in her golden cage with her jewels and her grand piano that she was not allowed to touch. They would assure she’d change her mind before entering the Fold.
The look on his face told her everything that she needed to know. He may not have expected her to come after him, but he knew now to expect her to back out. To do anything other than what she had said. Surely he should have realized by now that Anastasia was a woman of her word. She’d found him. She’d stolen the greatest heirloom her family had and run away from home. She had done everything that no one would expect from her.
The same things they would expect from Nikolai.
The thought nearly blinded her as she stepped into the sunlight. Had she begun missing her brother so much that she had decided to act as though she were him? He would have told her that it was a waste of her own potential. He would blame himself for making her a mirror of him. It would be bad enough to have one of them roaming the streets of Ravka. They didn’t need two.
But she knew that she was not like her brother. She didn’t see the world as one big game that she had to win. She just wanted to dance, to feel the music filling her veins and speaking in it’s beautiful secret language to her soul. She knew it was a silly wish, one that she would never truly get to experience. She’d have to marry a man she didn’t love. She would have to dance only when it was appropriate. Anastasia would lock herself up for her country.
She just needed a chance to dance before she did so.
Kerch may have been known for it’s criminal underbelly, but it was the only safe place for her. She would be far from whatever trouble the Sun Summoner was bringing. She would be able to find Nikolai. Anastasia would be able to yell at him for hours at a time for not writing her back as much as he should. She would be free for the first time in her life.
As long as she did not get her throat cut or held for a ransom it should be perfectly safe.
Anastasia headed back to her room. It was not safe to dawdle on street corners. She had no idea if her parents had discovered that she was missing. She had no idea if anyone would be out looking for her. Vasily wouldn’t be. He had too much to do, too much to prepare for. The time for him to take the throne was almost upon them.
He had less time for his little sister than normal. She felt as though Nikolai had abandoned her. Perhaps this unwanted isolation had been the truth behind her desperate need to flee. Perhaps knowing that she was alone, and would be for the rest of her miserable life, had been what drove her to running as far as she could from the walls of her gilded cage.
She slipped up the creaky stairs, using the gentle creaks as though they were a melody. She craved music. Craved hearing the waltzes, the symphonies. She needed it as though it was oxygen. She needed to hear every beat, feel every note. Alas, her life would not go in that direction. She would sooner end up hidden behind blocks of ice than in a symphony hall. Especially after what she had done.
As the princess entered the room she had rented, she did not notice a figure standing silently in the corner.
She took off her cloak, tossing it down on a small chair in the corner of the room. Her back was to the silent woman, never once noticing her as she began to freshen up. The day was still long, the sun having only just hit the middle of the sky. She planned on actually doing something besides make shady deals in the back of a pub.
Anastasia lifted her face, water dripping from her eyelashes. She caught sight of the woman in the mirror, her spine instantly stiffening.
“Your Highness,” her voice was soft as she stepped out from the shadows. “We’ve a lot to discuss.”
Warnings: cursing, fantasy violence, family drama
He hated to lose. Hated to be in anyone’s pocket. When a plan failed it made him feel as though he was once more that scared child who had held onto his brother’s hand. He felt weak. Weaker than anyone in the Barrel should feel. If anyone had found out about this detour in his plans, he would have already been marked. Kaz Brekker would have been a name that was not remembered despite the fact that he was quickly becoming the man to look out for.
Needless to say, he was in a foul mood.
His hands were steady as he picked up the drink that had been Jesper’s. He didn’t bother to look at the other man; a boy really; as he drank it. The alcohol burned his throat, he could feel its trail burning all the way to his stomach. He needed that burn. Needed to feel something other than the rage in his heart. He knew that he would never get another chance to break into the Grand Palace and steal the Sun Summoner.
Not that she would even be there.
He had not once thought that the girl would be stupid enough to run. He had never thought she’d leave the safety of the Grand Palace and General Kirigin. Anyone would have known that Fjerda and the Shu would be after her. How she thought she’d be safer on the run was beyond him.
After the showing last night she was in more danger than ever. Kaz knew it would be harder to find her, harder to capture her. There was no telling where she would go or where she would be hiding. Not to mention they’d already ruined the one place they could go and get information. The Little Palace would have been the most opportune place to be for information. All of it would have gone to Kirigin.
They’d blown that cover though. The other guards had caught sight of them, the princess had spoken to him. A stableboy was very aware of Jesper and what he looked like. None of them would be able to go back.
“What’s our plan?” Inej stood at his shoulder, his constant wraith. He wondered briefly what life would be like if she wasn’t at his side. He was certain that most of his plans would have gone up in smoke by that point.
Just like the one they were running from.
“I don’t know,” he said, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the empty glass in his gloved hand. He hated not knowing, hated to be on the outside. He never knew what to say or do. Never knew how to feel about the whole thing. It was like he was a child all over again, trapped with those bodies and staring into his brother’s glazed-over eyes. Just the thought was enough to make him shudder.
He suppressed the shudder. He didn’t need any of the others to know that he was reflecting on things. Didn’t need them knowing that he was afraid for once. Kaz Brekker was a man who was driven by fear. Fear of failure, fear of being unknown, fear of never getting his revenge on Pekka Rollins. Fear and revenge ran deep within him. He had a strong sense of what he needed, what he wanted.
Kaz could care less about the money, about the power. All that mattered was making Pekka Rollins pay. He couldn’t do that when he was failing at jobs hundreds of miles away from the Barrel.
Inej seemed to understand that he was not in the mood to be messed with. She just stared at him. Her eyes were depthless and filled with everything she wanted to say. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t stand to look and see what she thought of him. He knew it would be the same thing he thought of himself. Worthless, pathetic. Couldn’t steal a saint if he tried.
Jesper, on the other hand, chose not to read the warning signs. “We could always stay here,” he sounded almost cheerful at the prospect. “This place is nice. We could start a farm, live a quiet life."
Inej and Kaz both looked at him.
"Or perhaps not,” he gripped the drink the bartender slid over to him as if guarding it against his two companions. “You’ll think of something boss, you always do.” Even in the worst of situations, Jesper was a beacon of light in a cold, dark world. Maybe that was the real reason Kaz kept him around. The man reminded him that things were not always as dire as they seemed. As long as they could breathe, they could stay alive. Kaz could think of a plan even when their backs were against the wall.
His brow furrowed slightly, fingers tapping gently against the glass in his hand. Their backs were against the wall. The would-be-saint had run off. But there had been talk of another running with her. The gossips in the bar had mentioned a tracker. One that Kirigin had been using for a secret mission. That was something they could use.
This tracker had to be someone important to her. It had to be someone that they could use. Someone who could lead them just where they needed to be. But how did one track a tracker? How did they find the two?
The docks. They would be escaping Ravka as soon as they possibly could. All they would have to do was wait at the docks. There would be a way across the Fold, one that the Sun Summoner and her tracker would use. The trio could wait for them there, they could become part of the background. It was what they had done for years in the Barrel.
“Plotting face?” Jesper spoke softly from somewhere above him.
“Plotting face,” Inej agreed. Kaz could almost hear the smile in her voice. She thought too highly of him. She thought that he was kind, that he was better than he was One day he would prove that he was the monster that the Barrel had made him. But until then he would take this kindness and cultivate it.
He needed loyalty in his crew. Loyalty would at least keep them from deserting him in whatever weak moments he may have.
“Shut up,” he hissed at the two as he moved to stand. He gripped the crow’s head of his cane, heading outside with purpose in his stride. Inej and Jesper scrambled to follow after him. He could tell they were amused by his actions. After all, it was not every day that he proved them both right within seconds. Normally, he went out of his way to keep people questioning him. He hated to prove people right or wrong. He lived to be an enigma of sorts. If too many people assumed that they understood him, he would never have any sort of mystery in his name.
Upon his exit from the bar, he noticed something that brought an overwhelming sense of both dread and morbid excitement to him. A carriage sat in front of the bar.
A carriage with General Kirigin’s crest on the side. The sun in eclipse had never been more deadly nor more beautiful to him.
He glanced once at Jesper before looking away again. Jesper seemed to understand. He slid one of the beautiful Zemeni revolvers from its holster before heading to the carriage. Jesper was the one who could go around it without arousing suspicion. The Darkling hadn’t seen him except for the briefest of seconds in the dark of the night.
Inej slipped away from him as well, heading up to the rooftops. The Wraith watched over him as though she were a guardian angel. Kaz Brekker knew that he did not deserve to be guarded by angels or Saints. He deserved demons, monsters. After all, he could rule over them with a smile and a smirk.
While Jesper gathered intel from whoever may have been in the carriage, Kaz slipped away from the scene. Despite his leg, he found that he could travel at a quick pace when the need arose. He wanted to find the General. Wanted to know just what he knew about the whole thing. Even if he knew that could be a death sentence.
Kaz was not afraid of death. He knew that his time would come sooner or later. He just had priorities before the Saints took him from the mortal plane. He needed to dethrone Rollins, needed to be better than every other boss in the Barrel. But most of all, he needed to prove himself to Jordie.
Finding Kirigin did not take long. In fact, it did not take any effort whatsoever. It felt as though he had turned a corner and there he was. Kaz was almost frightened at how quickly he had shown up. Almost, but not quite.
“You,” his voice was a hiss. Kirigin was glaring at him, those eyes deep and dark enough that it reminded Kaz of the Fold. “You slimy little rat. Where is she? What’ve you done with her?” It took him a moment to realize that Kirigin meant Alina Starkov. The would-be-saint.
“She doesn’t like being anyone’s prisoner it would seem,” Kaz stated as he leaned lazily against his cane. While he looked like the picture of contentment, his heart was pounding. He had learned long ago to not allow his anxieties to play on his face. It was easier when he looked as though he could care less about anything that was going on. That and it helped to piss people off. A pissed-off person was more likely to reveal their plans. Pride and anger got more people into trouble than anyone had ever cared to realize.
Kirigin began to walk towards him. Long legs causing long strides. The darkness of his shadows seemed to build around him as though they were living. Kaz wanted to throw up at the sight. “Give her back to me or your friends will meet a very sticky end.”
Kaz’s stare was bored although his palms were sweaty in his gloves. He wanted nothing more than to turn around and run as far as possible from this place. “I don’t have the girl. I don’t have friends. Threaten someone with something to lose next time.” His gravelly voice came out rougher, the telltale sign of his lies. He hated that he still had a tell. He had worked for years to get rid of all of them.
He did have something to lose. All he had built could come crumbling down if he wasn’t careful. He’d already put up the club in order to bring Inej along.
Kirigin snarled at him, a curse rising on his lips. Kaz did not need to be warned twice. He knew danger when he saw it. While most would assume that he did not have a sense of self-preservation, mainly because of how intense most of his plans seemed to be, he had quite an intense one. He would not let anyone kill him. Not anytime soon. Kaz was supposed to be the one who brought destruction to those who were not expecting it. He was not supposed to be the one who managed to get caught in the crossfires.
He flung his arm out, tossing down a flash bomb that his demolition man in Kerch had made him. He only had a few left, only to be used in case of emergency. The Darkling baring down at him? Yes, that counted as an emergency.
Kaz fled the scene as quickly as he could while Kirigin was blinded. He found himself back in the square, Jesper stood grinning far too widely with a book in his hand. Inej looked worse for wear, a haunted look in her eye and anxious energy surrounding her. They had been caught unaware. Kaz could not help but to blame himself for it. He should have expected some sort of attack after last night. After all, they had been seen running from the palace around the time the Sun Summoner had gone missing. They had targets on their backs.
“We need to leave, now,” Inej twirled one of her knives as she spoke. Kaz nodded once before he motioned for the two to follow after him.
“Why not steal a carriage?” Jesper spoke as they ran past stables, his breath coming in soft pants that Kaz found somewhat annoying. The whole question was annoying. The situation itself was enough to darken his normally foul mood.
“It’s what they expect of us after last night,” Kaz stated as they slipped out of the town’s gates. His chest burned, his leg ached, but none of it would make him slow. Not until they got somewhere they could hide long enough to figure out just what to do.
The three rushed into the forest, taking a moment to catch their breath once they were deep within the confines of the forest. Kaz knew that this was a stupid plan. He knew that they needed to be careful. With the Darkling at their back, they were in more trouble than he had originally believed. Yet, there was nothing they could do but try to find Alina. They had to figure out how to get her back and return to Kerch. They had to figure out if they even wanted to.
Inej was beginning to break. He could tell by the look in her eye and the set of her square jaw. He wondered why she still believed in her Saints. They had clearly forsaken her. So why did she find it within herself to be so pious? Why did she want anything to do with them? With any of it?
Questions he would never ask seemed to crowd his mind. He had trouble with that. He thought too much about too many things. It was normally a useful tool. He was able to see past things that most people didn’t. He was able to find the smallest details and then exploit them. It had helped when he was rising in rank. It had helped him to capture the Barrel.
“Where do we go now?” Jesper questioned, his chest heaving as he panted. His eyes were wild, glancing at everything at once and seeing nothing. Kaz knew that Jesper often had trouble sitting still. He knew the sharpshooter needed to feel something moving at all times, whatever it was matching the beat of his heart.
“We continue to the docks. But we do so silently. We’ll board whatever we can find to get us across the Fold. The Saint and her Tracker should make an appearance at some point,” Kaz brushed the head of his cane off. Dust from his flash bomb still coated the surface. “We stick to the plan. We can outrun Kirigin and his Grisha as long as we keep our heads and avoid detection.”
He stared at the sharpshooter as he spoke. Out of the three of them, Jesper was the most likely to be caught. He had a way of drawing attention to himself. That was the one thing they did not need. Having all of Ravka’s Second Army coming after them would only lead to losing the club. And possibly their lives. That strangely did not affect Kaz as much as it should have. He was at risk of losing his life every day he stayed at the top of the Dregs.
“Okay,” Inej breathed out through her nose, a sure sign that she wasn’t happy. “So our entire plan is to wait it out?"
"Sometimes inaction can be the greatest action,” Kaz stated as he began to walk away. They had to get moving before the sun went down. He didn’t fancy being caught outdoors during winter in Ravka. Kerch got cold enough. Ravka, on the other hand, had nights that were below freezing in the depths of winter. Being turned into a frozen crow did not sound appealing to him.
“I don’t think now is one of those times,” Jesper spoke as he and Inej followed after Kaz. “We’ll freeze our assess off before we get there.”
“That would keep you from talking at least,” Kaz grumbled as they trekked through the forest. He could feel Jesper’s glare. Normally, he would have intimidated him or done something cruel in response. He did not have the energy. If his sharpshooter wanted to waste energy hating him, so be it. They would get out of this alive. They would keep the Crow Club. He wouldn’t let them fail. Even if it meant alienating the only friends he’d ever had.
Kaz didn’t believe in friendship. It was a waste of time. He had people who were loyal to him. People he could hold at arm’s length. They could betray him but they could never tell anyone his secrets. They’d only ever be able to reveal an idea of who Dirtyhands was. No one would ever know the truth behind the Bastard of the Barrel. It was safer that way. Lonely, but safer. Jordie should’ve been the same way. Maybe then Kaz wouldn’t be so alone in this damned world.
Thoughts of Jordie plagued him as they journeyed for three days.
It was three days of hell. Of breaking into random barns and sleeping on floors that smelled of shit and hay. It had been trekking through mud and snow, being near blinded by a blizzard, and foraging for food when they couldn’t risk showing their faces in a town. Kaz had counted down the days till they had reached civilization. He had not been made for foraging and hiding in the dirt. The farm had never been what he had wanted. It never would be.
Inej was the one who got them lodging. A vacant house nearer to the Fold than anywhere else. Its occupants had been devoured by the Volcra. Kaz didn’t care about the ghosts. The house didn’t smell of hay or animal excrement. It would do.
There had been no talk of the Saint coming to town. No one had heard anything about a tracker either. The gossip in the tavern stayed focused on who was sleeping with who, who was with child, and who owed money to the crown. None of it mattered to him. None of these people were important enough to him. They weren’t pigeons to swindle or those who would have any knowledge of the would-be-saint. All they were was normal, everyday people going about their shitty lives. Kaz couldn’t hate them for not knowing anything and yet, he found them completely and utterly horrid.
The tavern the trio of crows found themselves in was as dank and depressing as every other tavern they’d seen. The lights flickered, the chairs creaked, and the glasses were more grime than glass. It was enough to make anyone’s stomach turn. Yet, it was also the one place that reminded any of them of home. The Barrel was home if they liked it or not. Most of the time, it was something that everyone hated.
Everyone wanted out of the Barrel. Yet very few ever made it out. Kaz knew he would never get out. His heart belonged there. All the torn, shredded, dirty pieces of it. There had never been anywhere else for him. There never would be.
“Are you sure she’ll show up here?” Inej questioned from her seat across from Kaz. She had a drink in her hands, although she stared into it as though it held every answer she’d ever searched for. He doubted she would actually drink it any time soon. Although, she had been known to surprise him.
“If she doesn’t come of her own accord,” Kaz began, staring at the patrons of the bar as he spoke, “then Kirigin will bring her. She’s his great victory. He’s a narcissist, he’ll be determined to show her off. To end the Fold and claim Ravka as his own.”
“Shouldn’t we help her then?"
"No,” he hadn’t told her of the club. Hadn’t told her what was at risk should they fail. No, he’d kept that to himself. It was his burden to bear. “She’s the mark. She’s not a damsel in distress.”
The tavern door opened, spilling fresh sunlight into the darkness. He nearly winced at the golden light. A woman slipped in, a cloak covering her head. He could see golden hair underneath it, strands falling down her shoulders despite whatever attempts had been made to pull it back.
The woman walked with an easy elegance, her feet barely touching the floor as she strode to the bar. He didn’t hear what she ordered, didn’t know what she said to the barkeep. He just saw the way the man sneered, the way her fingers twitched. Instead of reaching for a knife, as he had assumed she would, she tossed a coin onto the bar.
Kaz knew he should look away from her but there was something there. Something that tugged at his brain. He recognized something about the woman. That alone could be dangerous. She may have been a Grisha in disguise. Someone who was looking for them as a favor to Kirigin.
The woman turned once she got her drink, her eyes scanning the bar and landing on their table. The hood of her cloak concealed her face and yet, he could feel her gaze upon him. His spine stiffened as she made her way towards them. Her graceful walk almost looked like a dance.
A sinking feeling began in the pit of his stomach.
“Mr. Vanzin,” Anastasia Lantsov lowered her hood, a smile playing on her lips, “I’ve been looking for you.”
A mischievous duo ✨
This is my second piece for this year @grishaversebigbang ! This is where Six of Crows meets Harry Potter!
This wonderful Kanejficis written by our awesome etheralki, @likefirings!
The others materialkis :
Zeniks Moving Castle
“Please, don’t go”
Here’s my piece for the @grishaversebigbang2021!
The story:Zenik’s Moving Castle by the talented Etherealki @logastellusaur , is a “Howl’s Moving Castl” inspired Ninej fanfiction!
The others Materialki: @ninaaswaffles
Go check out their amazing pieces !!!
The Corporalki: @enbychuyaand@sunlitangles
“Starstruck”
Original gifs by @kamillahn
Aleksander Morozova x Reader
NSFW
Warnings: Praise kink, size kink, mentions of semi public sex, bit of a choking kink, bit of manipulation (come on guys, this is the darkling here), mild self esteem issues.
After a night of drinks with friends in a strange country, you let a tall, dark and handsome stranger take you home. The next morning, you discover you slept with a super star.
You tried not to make a sound as you scouted the bedroom for your underwear. The early morning glow filtering through the blinds that in your enthusiasm you had failed to close, provided you with barely enough light to find your sparkly dress, but your cream colored panties, so close in shade to the plush carpet under your feet, were another thing completely. Giving up, you sighed, getting up from the floor. It was useless, the panties were probably as ruined as the torn thighs in your hands anyway. Tall, dark and handsome please-call-me-Sasha had been very thorough in his wreckage of you the night before.
Leaving such a path of destruction behind was apparently, exhausting, because said man was currently snoring softly, hugging his pillow, looking far too innocent for someone who had done such wicked things to you in that very same bed -not to mention the elevator, or the ride home, or the bathroom bar before that- not even a handful of hours ago, and far too beautiful for your poor heart. Tearing your eyes away from that angelic sight was almost as hard as tearing yourself from his arms five minutes before, but you forced yourself to do it. He wasn’t yours to keep, and though he had been very passionate about you last night, who knew what his reaction to you would be in the harsh light of day.
You told yourself it wasn’t cowardice, you simply would rather to keep your memory of him and your perfect one night stand like that, perfect than have it tainted by the regret in his face when he woke up to… well, you. You also told yourself it wasn’t a self esteem issue either, you considered yourself an average, moderately attractive woman. The thing was, he wasn’t moderately attractive. He was drop dead, hollywoodesque, carved by the gods cliché level of hot.
Yes, better to save yourself and him the awkwardness of the morning after and leaving before he woke up. Besides, you had a day full of bridesmaid duty ahead of you, the sooner you could get back to your hotel, the better.
If only you could find your other boot…
And maybe a hoodie or something to borrow, you didn’t mind (much) the walk home in last night’s dress, but you didn’t really fancy to freeze in the glaciar air of Ravkan early spring mornings either.
It looked like divine providence when you located both items in the reading nook by the window, all you needed to do was navigate around Sasha’s side of the bed without waking him, and the task didn’t seem a difficult one, considering all you had to do was walking barefoot on a very plushy rug to the other side of the room. In a couple of seconds, your treasure was within reach and you were bending down to grab your elusive left boot, grey knitted hoodie already in hand, when you saw it.
There, greater than life, staring right back at you through the windowpane from a gigantic billboard across the street, was your one night stand’s face. Sure, the hair was longer, darker and the beard was thicker but there was no possible mistake, no chance of it being a simple, if uncanny, resemblance. Not when that face sported the same cupid’s bow, the same onix eyes, hell, the same freaking beauty mark under his left eye. And it was really dramatic too, his tall figure, all clad in black in medieval period clothes, huge green characters against a dark background announcing “Aleksandr Morozov is The Dark One”. Your limited knowledge of the Cyrillic alphabet prevented you from reading the name of the movie but one thing was clear: This wasn’t a small or independent production, this was big, this was mainstream, a lot of money had to be involved for such a massive sized campaign. And for him to be the focus of it, for his name, albeit unknown to you, to be advertised like that, as big as the name of the movie, it could only mean that his name had weight, that it was as important as the movie or show they were promoting.
You had slept with a freaking movie star.
Suddenly, the luxury surrounding you was so conspicuous, so glaringly obvious you wondered how you hadn’t noticed before. The soft hoodie in your hands was high quality cashmere, the luscious carpet under your feet probably real fur, the books lining the bookshelves, precious first editions.
Jesus, had the opulent car that had taken you there the night before been his car, his chauffeur instead of an Uber ride like you had originally thought?
You were so stunned, so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice your date was awake, until a hand shot through the air, quick as a whip, catching your wrist.
In two movements, you were flat on the bed, sleepy, irresistibly disheveled, completely naked Aleksandr Morozov hovering over you.
“Where do you think you’re going, malyshka?"
In complete disconnect from your still short circuiting brain, melting twice over because he was there, so handsome and so close -and had you mentioned, naked?- you opened your mouth.
"You’re famous"
A beat of silence. Then two. Until he finally grinned, easy and charming and handsome as the devil.
"I am. Is that a problem?"
He said it casually, smirk still firm on his face, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something guarded, something almost sad about them then, something that made your gut twist with guilt, your cheeks heat with embarrassment.
"No, of course not!” You scoffed, searching for the right words to reassure, to comfort.
But he was already over it, if the way he dived to kiss your neck was any indication, as the hand not braced against the mattress stroked the contours of your body, skimming the side of your breast, caressing the curve of your hip, splaying on the outside of your thigh, down and down until his fingers found your knee, hooking on the back of it to bend your leg around his slim hips as they pushed your thighs apart.
“I- I have to go…” You stammered as his hand found its way to the inside of your thigh.
“Do you, now?” Was that amusement in his voice?
“Yes. Ana, my friend, is getting married the day after tomorrow and I can’t just bail on her when-” He swallowed the rest of your sentence, kissing you, open mouthed and slow, managing to make it dirty and sweet at the same time. Sensual.
You couldn’t remember anyone kissing you quite like that before, with such artistry, such abandon. As if the kiss wasn’t a preamble or a means to an end, but a sexual act in and of itself.
“You taste like my toothpaste” He growled into your mouth, before slipping his tongue past your lips again, chasing the flavor, hips undulating against yours so languidly, so softly, you doubted he was even aware he was doing it.
You hated yourself for ending the kiss even as your lungs burned from lack of oxygen, but as you broke it and let air fill your lungs, so did your head fill with clarity and you remembered the long day of bridesmaid duty you had ahead of you.
“Im sorry, I really am” You lamented, sincerely, “I’d love nothing more than staying and spending the morning with you, but I really have to go”
Aleksander didn’t seem to hear it, though, staring intently at you, index finger tracing the line of your brow, the bridge of your nose, your cheekbone, as if trying to commit your face to memory.
“Sasha? Sasha! Are you even listening to me?”
Aleksander shook his head,
“Sorry” He didn’t sound sorry at all, “It’s just, you are truly beautiful in the daylight”
You felt your cheeks get warm again, so you buried your face against his neck, the way his breath hitched not escaping your notice. So, his neck was sensitive, interesting.
No, you couldn’t let yourself get distracted again. You had to return to your life, had to get out of there before things could get any further. It was one thing to sleep with the sexiest man you had ever met under cover of darkness, with alcohol blurring his perception and your inhibitions. To let him fuck you completely sober in broad daylight was an entire different beast.
“I mean it, Sasha, I have to go”
He let his whole body weight fall on you, trapping you under him.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you go, malyshka” He replied, not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the place where his hands were pushing up your already short dress till it was indecently bunched around your hips.
“Why not?” You questioned, even as you let his fingers slide between your legs, find the wetness already seeping there for him. He didn’t comment on your lack of underwear, which made you suspect he knew exactly what had happened to your panties and their whereabouts.
“Because” He started as his index and middle fingers grazed your slit, coating them on your slick before coming up to rub circles on your clit, a rhythmic, electrifying friction sending sparks up your abdomen in record time, “I’m supposed to be dating my co-star, and as much as I like this pretty little dress of yours, if a paparazzi or a fan sees you leave my house in it, we’ll both be in big trouble…"
Your hand was on his wrist in an instant, trying, inefficiently, to halt his movements.
"Wait, you have a girlfriend??”
“It’s not real, moya malyshka” He appeased, soothingly petting your head in a deeply patronizing gesture, “it’s all make believe, publicity for the show”
Offended by his condescension, you batted the hand still patting your hair away, but he chose that moment to breach your entrance, just barely, only burying his fingers to the first knuckle, yet enough to send a wave of pleasure through your lower belly.
“I’m only asking you to have a little patience,” You tried to focus on his words but it was really hard when he kept teasing your entrance like that, penetrating you less than an inch at a time and withdrawing his fingers again, only to caress your labia, your slit, your clit with a butterfly’s wing pressure. “Just wait here until I can call my assistant to bring you some casual clothes, so if someone sees you leave here, at least it won’t be so obvious you spent the night…” He rolled your clit between the pads of his fingertips then, making your eyes roll back. “Just a couple of hours, what do you say, pretty girl? I promise I’ll make it worth your while…”
It did sound like a logical course of action, you were sure that made sense, or as much sense you could make of something with his hands driving you to distraction like that.
“Just… just a couple of hours?” It was pretty early anyway, your friends would probably sleep till noon, nursing their own hangovers, they wouldn’t even notice your absence.
“Just a handful of hours” He brought his thumb to the mix, ghosting it over your most sensitive nub of nerves.
“Oh… ok” You sighed, giving in.
“There’s a good girl” You could hear the smirk in his voice but couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not when he rewarded you by burying his fingers inside you to the hilt wasting no time in starting to pump them in and out, thumb rubbing at your clit expertly, multiplying your pleasure to eleven right then and there. He seemed to relish in the noises leaving your throat, whispering praises in your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine. “That’s it, just like that, let me take care of you. I can make it good for you… let me make it good for you…”
“Yes…”
His strokes changed then, exploring, searching your tight, wet heat for something. You knew the moment he found it because sparks exploded behind your eyelids, making you whimper and moan, and writhe. He pinned your hips to the bed with his other hand, keeping you in place as he intensified his assault, picking up the pace.
It was almost embarrassing, how quickly you had become such a mess in his hands.
“So beautiful… so responsive… God, you’re perfect"
You had never been one for praise kink, but his words in that voice, so deliciously husky with desire, was doing something to you. Something that obliterated your brain function better than any drink ever did.
"Yeah, just like that… ride my hand just like that, looks so sexy… Fucking sexiest thing I have ever seen…"
You had no idea when you had started following the movements of his fingers with your hips but you were glad he liked it; you didn’t think you could stop if you tried, you were too close, too far gone.
"Wanna see you ride my cock just like that… think you can do that for me, malyshka?”
You nodded not really processing his words, you would have done anything he asked of you at that moment, that was why it was so disorienting to suddenly find your positions reversed, with him laying on the bed on his back, and you manhandled until you were straddling his lap.
“Are you ready for it, malyshka?”
A quick look down told you you weren’t. Objectively, you knew you had already managed it the night before, but you hadn’t seen it. Now, faced with the dimensions, the sheer girth of the appendage he called his dick, you froze.
Obviously, Aleksander noticed your hesitation.
“I know, printsessa, I know. It’s too big for you isn’t it?"
You felt yourself nodding, eyes drawn back to where his hand was stroking his length leisurely. You had the distinct impression he was showing off for you. Bastard.
"But you can take it, I know you can. You took it so well last night…” There it was again, that damned praising that made you want to do anything he said, fly yourself to the moon and back, only to get to hear that sinful voice call you a good girl again. So you let him notch the flared head of his cock to your entrance but didnt push inside, letting you take control, take your time, which you were grateful for because the stretch of his tip alone felt like almost too much, soaked and eager as you were.
You lowered yourself slowly, feeling every inch, every ridge and vein, watching in satisfaction as his eyes rolled back inside his head, as his hands flew to your asscheeks like he needed the purchase. Like he was as affected as you were. The little groans leaving his mouth motivated you to keep going whenever the strain threatened to be too much, until you were sat flush to his pelvis. You took a moment, then, as much to get used to him, to the feeling of being filled to the brim by his massive cock, as to center yourself.
When you finally felt ready to start moving, you opened your eyes to find him staring up at you, slack-jawed, as if awestruck, as if he couldn’t believe such a tight fit either. Rocking your hips just a little proved enough for his mouth to fall open completely, the most pornographic sound you had ever heard resonating through the room and searing itself onto your brain.
This man was going to be the death of you.
“Just like that… fuck, you feel so good”
You wanted to tell him the same, wanted to tell him how incredible his cock felt inside of you but your voice was stuck in your throat, mouth open, fixed in a silent oh. Your silence didn’t deter him though, because he kept whispering dirty nothings as your hips picked up their rhythm, hands grabbing at your thighs, your ass, your hips, everywhere he could reach that was unimpeded by your dress, adding fuel to the fire already burning low on your belly thanks to the maddening friction of his pubic hair scraping your sensitive clit as you rocked on top of him.
It wasn’t enough.
To be stuffed full of him, to have his mesmerized attention, his hands on you. No, you were greedy, hungry. You wanted more. You wanted everything.
So you took the hem of your sequined dress and lift it over yourself, revealing all of your body to Aleksanders ravenous gaze.
“Ara, moya malyshka… yes, take it all off!” Aleksanders hands flew immediately to your ribcage, traveling up to seize your breasts, squeezing the handfuls and making your head fall back in pleasure. “I knew youd look beautiful sitting on my cock, krasotka…”
“Sasha…” You managed to plead.
“Do you need something, malyshka?”
You nodded.
“Do you need more? Do you need me to fuck you?”
“Yes” you were not above begging, “Sasha, please…”
He didn’t reply with words, instead, he snaked an arm around your back, holding you to him as he sat up and started moving you up and down his cock one handed, the other cupping your face, holding you in place as he devoured your lips. Your own fingers searched, blindly, gripping at his dark locks, trapping him as much as he was trapping you, if only to have something to brace yourself against the slight sting of being stretched almost to your limit, the abrasion of his cock pistoning in and out of you, reaching deep, impossible deeper with every upward thrust.
“Sasha…” You exhaled into his mouth, and he breathed it in, as drunk with passion as you felt, little moans in tandem with yours.
You could feel it building already, every impact of his thighs against your ass, of his pubic bone against your clit hurtling you up higher and higher, a climb that almost frightened you, you weren’t sure you would survive the fall.
But there was no stopping it, no way to fight it, not when Aleksander let go of your mouth just to lock his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and nibbling with far less skill, far less self control than he had shown as he fingers you open, biting on your little nub with enough force to hurt, to really send a sharp pang of pain that echoed through your body mixing and blurring with the pleasure until you didn’t know which was which, until you didn’t know if you wanted to lean into it or get away.
The decision was made for you (or maybe there was never a decision to make) anyway, as his thrusts found that elusive little spot his fingers had already conquered before, and you were falling, abruptly and unprepared, coming with such force you thought you’d might break apart, come undone at the seams, shattered by the force of an orgasm so powerful even Aleksander felt it, hissing at the vice like grip of your cunt strangling his cock as your climax rippled through you.
“Fuck! Just like that, come all over my cock, Malyshka, give it to me, let me feel it…"
You could tell he was close too, his movements faster, more erratic and found that you wanted it, wanted to feel him come inside you, feel him fall apart with you.
So you reach out, wrapping your hands around his neck, and squeezed, crushing his pipeline, until his words were nothing more than an unintelligible wheezing, until his eyes widened and his face went red with lack of oxygen.
Until you felt his cock pulsate inside you and the liquid warmth of his come paint your womb.
You collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs, chest to chest, heartbeats pounding in unison, both shipwrecked by the intensity of what had just happened.
"You know,” You panted, after a few minutes, “If your evil masterplan was using sex to stop me from leaving… it totally worked, I can’t even move my legs’‘
His only response was a far too self satisfied laugh.
***
"Are you sure, Ivan?”
You were standing naked on the heated tiles of Aleksander’s bathroom, tapping away on your phone as he ran a bath for both of you (you had insisted on a shower at first since it would have been quicker, but one glance at his colossal labradorite bathtub had obliterated all your resistance). The entire bridal party had watched you leave the impromptu Bachelorette’s with “the Aleksandr Morozov lookalike” and were now demanding details, the dirtier the better.
“… and there isn’t anything you can do? Well, can’t you ask Alina for help?”
That name you did know: Alina Starkova’s face was everywhere, starring in the campaigns of every luxury brand from Bvlgari to Lancome. You simply had thought she was a new supermodel, up until half an hour ago you had no idea she was an actress, let alone Sasha’s co-star and fake girlfriend.
That you were absolutely not jealous of. No, if the name made you lift your eyes from your phone screen, it was mere interest. No pang of annoyance or anything else remotely unpleasant. That was ridiculous, you didn’t even know the woman.
Aleksander was pacing the bathroom, as naked as you but somehow managing to still look regal af, even as he closed his eyes and pinched at the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Fine. No, seriously, it’s ok…” the rest of his sentence was spoken in a ravkan so fast you had no hope of translating, but when he was done, he put his own phone away and turned to you.
“Was that your assistant?"
"Yeah, Ivan” He confirmed, sighing, “I’m sorry, malyshka, but apparently there’s a handful of paparazzi camping on my doorstep, I’ll have to ask you to stay a little while longer while we figure out what to do about them” He sounded sincerely apologetic, “You don’t have to say yes, of course, and I would never force you to stay, but you would really, really spare me a scandal if you do"
You frowned, and his face fell even further.
"You keep calling me that, but I don’t know what it means”
It was his turn to frown a little, in confusion,
“What? Malyshka?”
You nodded. He smiled, just a little bit, taking a step towards you, into your personal space.
“It means 'babygirl’”
You scrunched up your nose,
“So what, I’m supposed to call you 'daddy’ in return?"
"Of course not,” He replied, wrapping his arms around you, “just call me papa”
“Ugh, no way!” You batted away at his chest, but couldn’t disguise the smile trying to break free. If it was a little goofy, well, no one had to know “I’m not calling you that, you dirty old man!”
“We’ll see…” He shrugged, noncommittal, before bending to kiss your smirk off your face, “Wait, so, you’re not mad?”
You shook your head, rising to your tiptoes to kiss him again.
“Nah, it just means we have more time in the bathtub” He hummed at that, hand on the small of your back traveling lower. “To wash!” You admonished. He didn’t look chastised at all. “And after that… you can make me breakfast”
His smile was real this time, big and open.
“Of course, anything you want… Papa will give his malyshka everything she wants”
“Ew, stop!"
His laughter filled the bathroom, and your heart, with warmth.
The end?
