Couronnez:

couronnez​:

THE TRUE VASILY LANTSOV must be a figure coming straight out of some fairy tale or myth because no one had ever gotten to know him. Not like that. Just a farce, an illusion of his real character. The crown prince was complicated in more ways than one. Honestly, no one had ever bothered to peek behind the protective walls he’d built up around himself to get a glimpse of Vasily, just Vasily. Not the tsesarevich.

Why was he doing all of this then? Why bother finding a queen when it didn’t matter to him anyway. For Ravka? For himself? For his parents?

No - out of all things, definitely not for the tsar and tsaritsa. He’d never particularly liked his father and his relationship with his mother was strained at best. Not that it was his fault, he couldn’t choose his family. Vasily had only ever liked Nikolai - until the tensions and resentments had grown between them and his brother had left for the infantry.

Her answer elicited another amused chuckle. He could have ruined her dress?

❝ Trust me, you wouldn’t want kvas stains anywhere even if you don’t care about dresses.❞

Vasily was entirely too honest again and he regretted it not by the slightest bit. Kvas truly was…

The slight pause threw him off. He was incredibly skilled at reading people and something just hadn’t been right with her pronunciation. It was enough for the suspicion in the back of his head to grow. Maybe lovely princess Ehri wasn’t quite who she was pretending to be…

Alas a mind game and if Vasily appreciated anything, it was toying with manipulation.

❝ I appreciate the effort but please, if I may ask you to come in more comfortable attire next time? There is something I cannot wait to show you but I would hate to ruin yet another princess’ dress.❞

He ran a hand through his soft blond hair, patting down some unruly strands at the side. A horse, he’d gift her a horse. Not any horse at that, a daughter of his beloved Dagrenner.

The tension she carries does not go unnoticed, Vasily knew he had to find a way too make her feel more at ease and home here at the Grand palace, considering she was to spend at least a month here before their engagement - or a declaration of outright war - would be announced to the public.

Vasily flinched at the sudden noise in the back, his head turning to meet the maid’s glance.

❝ Are you quite alright?❞

He asked, a sliver of concern slipping into his otherwise light-hearted expression. Yes, Vasily Lantsov, the Tsesarevich of Ravka, Officer of the King’s Army, and first son to His Most Royal Majesty, King Alexander the Third, Ruler of the Double Eagle Throne cared about ordinary servants. And? What about it? He saw no good in it to repeat the mistakes of his father and disregard the peasants.

Few words were exchanged in Shu, Vasily grasping the most of it and nodding courtly, briefly before settling down on the divan vis-a-vis of Ehri

❝ Preferrably more than just befriending each other, but yes - ❞

There it was again, that easy smile, so alike his younger brother. Vasily watched her intently, going over her words in his head, trying to analyze them, to use them for his own, to utilize and mobilize them.

They should learn and embrace one another’s culture - well Ravka’s culture differed vastly from Shu Han’s, not only because of their monarchies and custom.

I will not forsake my nation and my culture for the sake of my future husband’s kingdom.

Would he if he were her? Could he give up everything for a marriage? Would he… would he sell his horses … for her?

No.

No he wouldn’t. Saints, how much he hated to be forced to do this.

Was Ravka his home? His heart? His one and true love?

Yes - yes and no. It was easy to despise the country that took everything from you and gave nothing back. Ruling Ravka was a brutal but beautiful affair and he couldn’t help but adore his home nevertheless.

Vasily quietly sipped on the tea the maid had brought them - he’d even thanked her again for the sugar - too deep in his thoughts to form a sentence just yet. Her question wasn’t entirely out of the blue but he’d have to think about it anyway. A stir of the spoon, a little bit more of the sugar.

❝ I will. I promise I will defend your desire and right to keep your heritage alive within these walls. No matter the cost, no matter the resistance. I won’t let anyone take away the only things you have left of your home. But I expect you to the same. And I’d ask you to respect and honor our cultures nevertheless. My people want and need a queen that listens to them. Please, I don’t want you to become like my mother.❞

First loved and then despised by the public. The pretty Fjerdan princess, the eye candy. In many way misunderstood and uncared for. Vasily didn’t want the same fate to befall her.

The princess had raised a brow, intrigued, as Vasily had mentioned he couldn’t wait to show her something, something that required her to not wear a pretty dress. A thought came across her mind and she had to contain her excitement. He’s gonna show me the stables, isn’t he? It had been a while since the Tavgharah had ridden a horse. Ehri preferred to travel in the safety of the coach and thus they’d have to sit in the carriage as well. Ehri was also scared of horses since one of the Datong, caught in a frenzy, had almost stepped on her when the Taban royal convoy had been attacked on their way to Fjerda about five years ago. Mayu had slashed the horse in half with her curved blade. Ehri had been horrified at the sight of the kill but grateful to be unharmed. Still, that event had scarred the princess. Her hippophobia wasn’t a known fact. There were rumors though and Mayu had hoped Vasily didn’t know of them because the Tavgharad enjoyed riding and they were thrilled to dress in comfortable attire. 

The maid had taken a moment to reply to her princess in Shu. The ravkan prince’s words had left her a bit…stunned. Are you quite alright? he’d asked her. Toffee brown eyes had met the royal’s blue orbs in utter silence. He genuinely cares, Ehri had thought before curtsying briefly ❛ Da, da, spasibo, moi tsesarevich. ❜ The maid’s ravkan was impeccable. Maybe a little too impeccable for a simple maid. Usually people who knew languages so well were either nobles…or spies. She’d exchanged a few words with the princess in Shu. Nothing compromising. Something along the lines of i’m alright, please do not mind me and my clumsiness, your highness. Then, she’d kept preparing their tea. Eyes widened slightly in surprise as Vasily thanked her for the tea and again for the sugar. Thanking the staff was also something the real Ehri did. She was always kind to the people working for her family, no matter their social status. All human beings deserved to be treated with kindness. She’d nodded at his words, giving him the barest smile and scurried away to a corner of the room, leaving the royals to their conversation. 

Ehri listened to the words flowing out of Mayu’s mouth. Honestly, Ehri wouldn’t have done better. The eloquence, the sincerity, the emotion… Mayu didn’t speak unless necessary. But when she did— it was either bluntness or poetry. And sometimes a little bit of both. Ehri lived for those times. The words her doppelganger had spoken echoed in her. She felt them in her heart and soul. They were hers. Well, they could’ve been hers if she had had the courage to face the prince and speak them herself. Mayu had been her shadow for five years now and more than that. No matter how much Ehri feared using the word friend when it came to her personal guard, she’d come to see them as such. She was painfully aware that Tavgharads were meant to kill and die for the Taban family. And while Ehri was grateful for the protection, her heart ached at the thought of ever losing Mayu to such fate. Realizing she’d been staring at the royals, the maid turned her gaze away, brown eyes falling on the window. 

The Shu princess watched as the ravkan prince took in her words. He didn’t answer right away. He stirred his tea, added sugar again, pondered the question. A politician’s behavior, Mayu thought as they observed Vasily’s movements and features. They studied him. Carefully. Waiting for his next move. Like they played some kind of games in which each of them had the fate of the whole world within their hands. That was basically it though when you thought about it. His answer came. The first part had been expected, diplomatic. His request was totally reasonable. They were even ready to agree to it but he wasn’t done. The last part was unexpected though. Whatever mask Vasily had been wearing had faded for just a moment. He’d implored his potential future bride to not become like his mother. Mayu tilted their head to the side, studying him with care. Gold orbs suddenly gleamed with newfound interest. ❛ You are not what i had expected, Vasily Lantsov. ❜ The royal said slowly, a smile playing about her lips as she picked up her tea.  

defendrelor​:

THE SCAR ON HIS CHEST RUNS DEEP just like his injures. A furrow on the otherwise immaculate skin - finer lines of former wounds only complimenting his light skin, a slivery trace of faded events, faded memories, faded pain. He couldn’t shake off the agony of his most recent brush with death however, not physically, not mentally. He wanted to sob and weep and burry his head in Nikolai’s lap. Wanted to whine and cry about how much his chest hurt. What he’d give for a small vial of painkillers. Or the COMFORT of Kolya’s arms. Both - both would be an impossibility to achieve. He was meant to DIE for his king and yet he LIVED. In those fleeting twilight moments he’d spent lying in Nikolai’s arms, bleeding out on the floor, he’d have never died more proudly for him. He’d never been more glad to be the one with a DAGGER in his heart. Isaak couldn’t bare seeing Nikolai suffer, he couldn’t watch him die, not now, not ever. They were living dangerous lives but he’d PROTECT him, always, no matter what. Seeing his king now, so utterly lost, so utterly devastated after waking from yet another coma.

❝ You would have never let her come this close. You wouldn’t have been so foolish to meet with her alone. ❞

Isaak exhaled a shuddering sigh, his breath hitching as pain surged through his chest. Mayu, he had fallen in love with them, there was no denying his affection towards her. Could he ever look at her again after what she had done to him? He hated her, despised her with all he had and yet he had feelings for them.

With Nikolai, it was different. He knew he could ask Mayu to be his wife, marry, move far far away to a dacha on the countryside and never bother with royalty again. Nikolai, however… He could never have a guard as his prince. Isaak could never have him, no matter how much he was longing for it. Those fleeting kisses, those nights spent at each others side, sharing warmth, sharing a bed, a cot, a barely insolated tent at the Fjerdan front. All an illusion of something that could never be.

❝ She was tasked to kill you, Kolya. How can I ever forgive her, even if I know she feels regret for her actions.❞

He glances down to find the scar on his heaving, sore chest, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he remembered the terrifying sensation of her slipping a blade between his ribs. No, not her. Ehri.

❝ She wanted to visit me…? ❞

Isaak reiterated slowly, the words heavy on his tongue, swallowing hard, holding back a wince as he realized how parched his throat was. She wanted to see him - a motionless, ashen figure barely clinging to life in an infirmary bed? He wondered how long Nikolai had been sitting by his side. His presence was comforting, no, more than that. It made him feel stronger than he actually was.

❝ I…I am glad… you didn’t…❞

He let his head fall back onto the pillow, grimacing a little at the persisting ache in his chest. Nikolai hadn’t let her close to him and he found he’d rather have the king by his side than anyone else. EVER. In truth, he was afraid. Afraid of what she might do to him.

Isaak reached out for his tsar, his hand trembling with the strain of movement.

❝ I wouldn’t…wouldn’t want anyone else with me but you, Kolya. ❞

Nikolai envied the faith Isaak had in his capacity to do right by him, especially when all evidence proved to the contrary. Since they’d known each other, the man had been exposed to more and more danger. The Too-Clever Fox had planned to enlist a doppelganger years ago if for some mysterious reason the king of Ravka were to disappear. And while he knew this was the right choice to make for his kingdom, he’d always dreaded the idea of bringing his Isaya into this mess one day and being unable to protect him. And as much as he felt in his heart he didn’t deserve Isaak Andreyev, he just couldn’t bring himself to stay away for too long. This constant tug of war between duty and his heart’s desire was as painful as it was exhausting. He lacked consistency in the way he showed his affection and he had no doubt both of them were suffering because of it. He had fought so hard for his throne and, in about a month, if everything went as planned, Ehri Kir-Taban would be his Queen and his reign over Ravka would be secure with the promise of an eventual heir. Ehri didn’t want to marry him, that he was sure. She would, for her people, but it would be in no way her heart’s desire. And, for that, he’d come to realize just how alike they were. 

***

I guess none of us gets to be happy in the end, that was what Ehri had sighed in the sitting room one night while they were alone and flipping through albums of wedding décor Genya had brought them. He’d raised a brow and she went on with an old Shu saying, which translated to something like A true ruler must possess nothing to rule because they have to give everything they have to their people. Even their life. He tried to make a joke out of it. It’s funny, I’m told I possess a lot of things, Nikolai had argued, opening his arms wide and gesturing to the palace around them. The barest smile had appeared on his fiancée’s lips. I believe the author meant things that cannot be measured nor bought. He knew it. He just couldn’t bring himself to think about what he was truly giving up for Ravka. Ehri had kept flipping through the pages in silence. And what would you be giving up, Princess? He’d asked after taking a sip of his tea, like he was talking about the weather or other trivial matter. Ehri hadn’t answered right away. She usually never did when it came to serious questions. Honestly, he didn’t understand why everyone seemed to have deemed her ill-suited for politics when she clearly possessed a talent for captivating her audience. The silence went on forever it seemed. So much so Nikolai was wondering if she hadn’t fallen asleep with her eyes open. He was about to reach for her shoulder when her lips finally parted. My dreams, she’d uttered, fingers closing the book on her lap. Then, she’d got up and left the room, leaving her tea behind, which had been made the Shu way at her request. When she’d walked past the flames dancing in the fireplace, he’d caught a glimpse of a tear escaping her dark lashes. And he’d quickly regretted asking such a personal question to his future wife. Well, this marriage sounds very promising and so much fun, he’d murmured, trying to laugh it off but it didn’t work. That night, he didn’t sleep at all. What would you be giving up? The question had echoed in his mind, haunting him in his resting hours. Somehow, he’d found himself in the infirmary. He’d sat by Isaak's side. The man hadn’t woken up from his coma yet. In the morning, Tolya had found the king snoring in a chair, his bare fingers still holding onto the guard’s hand. 

***

Nikolai loved his people but, since that conversation with Ehri, he was becoming painfully aware that as a ruler his duty and desires would never coincide. He would always have to pick one over the other and, for the sake of his people, duty would always win. He knew this and his heart still ached nonetheless. He’d been aware his father has had multiple mistresses and had toyed with servants (and it still chilled him to the bone to imagine how many women his dad had taken advantage of within those very walls) but Nikolai was not his father. In fact, he wasn’t even his son — his mother had confirmed it a while back. And could he really do that to his Isaya? Have him around as some kind of boy toy, love him in secret and hide him in his closet like something he was ashamed of? No way. He could never do that to him. That wonderful man deserved better. And what about Ehri? Wouldn’t it be disrespecting her even though their marriage wasn’t a union of love? It was a known fact that Shu Queens usually had many consorts in order to make sure there was an heir and to prevent any lovers from claiming the child and throne for themselves. Ehri didn’t seem to be interested in romance at all though so he doubted she’d be thrilled at the idea. Nikolai had no idea how to make this —whatever this was— work in a way that everyone would be comfortable and happy. And both his brain and heart hurt at that thought. 

❛ Isaya…  ❜ 

The king’s voice was but a whisper as he felt his heart begin to shatter within his ribcage. Fingers intertwined together almost as soon as Isaak had reached out for his hand. Nikolai had also reached for him, guided by the undeniable pull he felt towards his dear friend. He’d left his chair and sat on the bed. Isaak had called him Kolya twice in a row, giving his heart a painful flutter. If he could die of something like this, you bet he would die happy. And loved. 

❛ Forgiveness belongs to you only, Isaak the Bright. I will not force it, I promise. It is for you to give to whomever you think deserves it. ❜ He murmured softly, using the nickname he’d been giving by both Dominik and him back when they served in the First Army together. He’d paused, eyes fixating on their hands in one another. ❛ I brought this upon you…❜ Somehow, his hazel eyes had found the courage to look into his Isaya’s brown orbs again. ❛ I don’t understand how— how you could ever forgive me. ❜ His voice had broken a little but he’d managed to regain himself like the king he was, even though it was clear he believed he didn’t deserve to be forgiven nor did he believe he was worthy of the honorable man that was Isaak Andreyev.

iskron​:

Rasmus has never been a flirt but there is something about Mayu that makes it so remarkably easy to talk to them sweetly. Full of affection. Or rather new found interest –

No. He isn’t going to fall in love. He knows. He is not made for relationships and love. He is made for boring state banquets and meetings with foreign dignitaries that lasted so long it should be illegal. Alas he is losing focus.

❝ Whatever Lantsov. ❞

He smirks, well aware Nikolai and his brother will always quarrel about anything really. It’s a product of their upbringing. He’s happy they’re even talking to each other still. Hell, they’ve even tried to be brothers lately. Real brothers. Rasmus cannot imagine how they’ve pulled it off but they have.

❝ A miracle indeed. My ribs are still pretty sore, though. ❞

Behind them, Vasily looks like as if he wants to start crying. He left work for this? His brother said it was a family emergency. Not that his need for alcohol isn’t one but still …

He exhales a weary sigh. He could have finished those budget reports in time before tomorrow. He’d have to pull another eighteen hour shift again then. Great. He lets himself get dragged into the kitchen, past his pale, sick boy of a cousin, a light-hearted eye roll is all he manages to do. At least he can drown his sorrows in Vodka now.

❝ I hope there is – ❞

Vasily stops in track, his hand flying to the lapels of his suit to smooth them out. He hasn’t had the time to change from his business attire because Nikolai had quite literally dragged him out of office and into his car. He turns to his cousin as Nikolai converses with the unknown roommate, his glance saying it all. Ohhh you didn’t tell us you have a girlfriend now?

Rasmus gestures for Vasily to sit down on the divan before hurrying off to grab the glasses and return with them. He needs a drink now if he wants to survive Nikolai’s subtle questions about his in fact non-existent love life. Mayu Kir-kaat. A no one. Perfect to protect him. Not many would be asking questions where they came from or what their apparent relation to Rasmus is but Nikolai does such things. Vasily is the quiet observer in the back, almost absently sipping on his Vodka as he watches and learns. He is a master at reading people, always has been. In a way, she’s similiar to Nikolai he finds. They adapt easily to their environment, toying with words as if they were the fountain of their power.

❝ Kolya, please. Drink. Here. How is aunt Tatiana doing these days? Is uncle Alexander still sick? ❞

❛ Your auntie is doing wonderful. I’m afraid I cannot say the same about Alexander though. ❜ Nikolai takes a sip of his vodka but doesn’t say anything more. For now. 

Mayu is sitting on the sofa across from the Lantsov siblings. A quiet observer. She can already tell Nikolai isn’t fond of his father. Or his parents at all. He must have a strained relationship with his mother as he call her Ramus’ auntie. No MOTHER, no MOM.  He called his father by his first name. No FATHER, no DAD, not even a YOUR UNCLE. He hates the guy, Mayu notes. And Vasily—— Well, from what the bodyguard heard from the other side of the door earlier, he’s afraid to disappoint the man but still calls him Dad. 

❛ As always Mother dear is deploying great efforts to achieve her dreams for grandkids. She usually gets like that around Christmas so she’s a couple months early on her schedule this time. I did remind her of the process of baby making  I N   D E T A I L, in case she thought babies grew in trees since she’s not getting any younger after all, you know. I thought i had stunned her for a while but as soon as i was done with my version of the birds and the bees speech, she took her damn phone and set up A   P L A Y D A T E  with the Taban girl. Not the oldest one, thank god! Because we all vividly remember that  D I S A S T E R, a few years back, when that b— i mean, lovely lady threatened to sue poor Vasya because he’d gotten so drunk out of nervousness —and boredom!— he’d spilled his drink on her. ❜

❛ Suing someone for a date gone wrong seems a little…extreme. ❜ Mayu commented, leaving all the room in the conversation for Nikolai to rant about the situation because, clearly, that’s what he needs. 

❛ Nothing is  T O O   E X T R E M E  for the Taban family. All of them are hella extra. And I don't expect Makhi’s little sister to be anything less than a diva. I googled her. She used to be a model! Look!  ❜ He’d grabbed his phone, quickly opened his bookmarks and got up to shove it in Rasmus’ hands. He begins pacing in the living-room and ranting again, his drink in hand. ❛ And she’s to be an intern at Lantsov Corporation, can you imagine??  I bet she’ll have nothing else to talk about than her G L O R Y   D A Y S  or whatever. I can’t believe mom would think she’d be a great fit for me! I mean, granted we both hot as fuck, but man you can’t base a relationship on how hot both parties are! There’s a reason I don't work there. And I don’t want my partner to keep reminding me of the HUGE BULLET I dodged. ❜ He stops in his track to turn to his brother. ❛ No offense, brother. This is just not my thing. ❜

Mayu leans in to have a look at the pictures on Nikolai’s phone that Rasmus is now holding. Their shoulders are touching now. The girl in the pictures is stunning. Long dark hair frames an angelic face with big doe eyes. Sweet. That’s the first word that comes to mind when she looks at the model. Everything i’m not. There’s something about that one picture where the girl isn’t dressed so humbly that catches her eye. There’s something about the model’s eyes… Mayu needs to have a closer look. Before they realize it, her hand reaches to grab the phone. Fingers brushes against Rasmus’. She’s fighting herself not to withdraw their hand as soon as it happens. It wouldn’t be natural. It wouldn’t add up with the fact they’d been living together. She gently picks up the phone from her roommate’s fingers, smoothly and naturally withdrawing from the touch once the phone is in their hands. She’d apologize later for invading his space.

Makhi had taken her mother’s hand in hers. ❛ But I should [rule]. I have studied. I have trained. ❜   ❛ And yet no lesson has ever taught you kindness. No tutor has ever taught you mercy. You have a heart hungry for war and I do not know why. ❜ ❛ It is the falcon’s heart, ❜ Makhi had said proudly. ❛ The heart of the Han. ❜ ❛ It is the falcon’s will. That is a different thing. ❜ Rule of Wolves, chapter 1

i’ll be off tumblr and probably discord today. busy pretending like i’m a badass warrior like mayu. emphasis on pretending lol

@iskron there you go <3

❛ This is nonsense! I’m no Grisha.❜ Linnea exclaimed as they dragged her out of the room to Djel knows where. Something stirs inside her as she says this. The power buried within protesting against such claim. It startles her for a moment. She shakes her head, begins fighting them off again. No, she can’t be Grisha. She just can’t. If she was, she would’ve known, right? ❛ Let go of me! ❜ She shouts as she struggles to set herself free from the guards grasp. Irons ultimately closes around her wrists and the panic seeps in. She’s all alone and has been forced back into a country that failed her as a child and teenager. Her father is missing and the court swore they would protect her from whatever enemies the man has made and yet—— she might burn at the stake because some old lady at the entrance touched her and decided she was Grisha.