Sapphic Fic - Tumblr Posts
would it have been worth taking?
A/N: I'm alive! slowly getting back into posting after a rough few months, but I some things backed up including longer fics and crossovers! let me know if anyone would like a part two :)
Tamar Kir Bataar x f!Reader
Summary: Later on, you learned exactly why Tamar was distant, why she drew that boundary that night, and not for the first time - you wanted to kill the bastard prince of Ravka. Your older brother assigned her to bodyguard duty, from the moment you boarded his ship.
Warnings: angst, pining, bodyguard trope
Word Count: ~2.3k
Tamar’s your best friend. Hands down. You’d spent so much time together over the years. She knows exactly what your face looks like when you have a losing hand, and you can tell when she’s bluffing from leagues away. Absinthe? You only drink it because of her. Cards? You only started playing because of her.
More and more you realized so much of your life had revolved around her, and it made sense. Tamar’s your best friend, but sometimes those boundaries get blurred and the lines crossed. One night, drunk off your ass, you kissed.
She didn’t hesitate. Tamar’s eyes caught hers, and darkened the slightest bit. Y/N leaned in, and Tamar leaned as well. It felt like the world was coming to a stop - everything around them pausing. The clouds didn’t shift, the ship didn’t rock, the fish didn’t swim. Their lips brushed, for a split second, before time started again and Tamar pulled away like someone shocked her.
She shook her head, and refused to meet Y/N’s eyes, standing up and walking away - without a second glance back. She sat there, her fingers touching her lips, ghosting over where Tamar’s had just been. It took a few seconds to set in.
Saints, that hurt more than anything else. A complete rejection - not even a backwards glance to spare. You let it go, and never brought it up. Neither did she. But - on late nights, when the book you were reading wasn’t that interesting, your thoughts would catch up with you and you’d relive every moment in detail, wondering where you went wrong - or how you could have misread the signs. No matter what angle you looked at it - you knew for a fact that she leaned in as well, and you held onto that.
Later on, you learned exactly why Tamar was distant, why she walked away that night, and not for the first time - you wanted to kill the bastard prince of Ravka. Your brother assigned her to bodyguard duty, from the moment you boarded his ship.
“Why do you always follow me around?” She asked Tamar, genuine curiosity on her face. It could’ve come out rude or sharpish, but she kept her tone gentle.
Tamar laughed. “Because it’s my job.”
“What do you mean,” her eyes narrowed, “your job?”
Tamar paused, placing down the dagger she’d been spinning on her finger tip. “I’m your guard.” She said slowly, as if she was speaking to a child.
Y/N blinked twice. “Right.” She muttered, before standing up. “I’m going to bed.” She walked to the door, focusing on keeping her pace steady. Her hand rested on the doorknob, and she turned her head to look at the woman. The woman who’d held her heart for so many years, without even knowing it. “You’re off duty.” She smirked, and shut the door behind her. Y/N didn’t stop until she got to her rooms, and only then let the tears fall.
-
“What are you going to do about her crush on you?” You heard Zoya say from around the corner, sounding completely exasperated.
Tamar shushed her. You counted to ten and turned the corner, keeping a bright smile on your face. A princess's smile. Tamar would know the difference, but Zoya would have no clue. “Zoya. I need your help.” You announced, and she surprised flash across her features, before her usual cool mask of disdain took over.
“With what?” She said sharply.
“I’m picking out an outfit. For a date.” You smiled, and purposefully didn’t look at Tamar. Zoya’s mood changes immediately, and she flashed a shark like grin at Tamar before breezing towards you, linking your arms and dragging you down the hall.
You might not be Grisha, but you could’ve sworn the heart renders blood pressure rose.
Once you were a safe distance away, and had ensured no others were nearby, Zoya asked, “Do you really have a date?”
A mischievous grin crossed your face. “I do.”
Zoya looked absolutely delighted. “Thank the Saints you’re getting over her. Who is it?”
"Busy body." You muttered under your breath, but told her anyways.
–
Over the next few months, you went on several dates. Most of the unsuccessful, considering they all knew exactly who they were taking on a date and blubbered trying to impress you. Several only wanted to be close to the crown. So - you resorted to ‘drastic’ measures, and snuck out of the palace, alone.
–
You were drunk off your ass in some pub, leading a ridiculously bawdy shanty you’d learned during your time at sea. Everybody loved it, and it drew a crowd in. Unfortunately, it also drew in people who knew exactly what to look for.
So, Tamar tugged you off of a bar, dragging out the front door, although you protested and cursed her the entire way. As soon as you’d cleared the door, Tolya threw you over his shoulder and they began running - damned running - back to the palace. You fought back the urge to throw up down his backside.
--
“Do you at least feel bad for the panic you caused?” Nikolai asked the next morning, as you nursed a massive hangover.
Tamar stood in the corner, leaned back against the wall, one knee propped up, and arms crossed. She looked furious. You watched her for a few moments, before turning back to Nikolai.
“No.” You tilted your chin up, mastering every part of the petulant and spoiled princess. And maybe you were being unnecessarily reckless, but right now - you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn. You’d fought in a war - you deserved a bit of leniency and a chance to be free.
“I expected nothing less.” Nikolai pressed his fingertips against his temples. Sure, he put on the role of disappointed brother well, but you could tell there was a small bit of pride in him. Pride you’d do something stupid. “You might as well live a little while you can.”
While you can … That statement crashed over you.
“What do you mean, while I can?” You said through gritted teeth, and his face turned unnecessarily serious.
“You have to think about your future.”
You stood up, pushing the chair back behind you. “What. Do. You. Mean?” In reality, you knew exactly what he meant, but you’d make him say it - say it outloud and speak the bullshit into the air.
“About marriage and alliances. Your duty to your country.”
“Oh, so I’m becoming a political pawn now?”
“You were raised for this.” Nikolai gave you a look, as if you’re the one being unreasonable.
“Haven’t I sacrificed enough?” You spit out, your teeth clenched.
Nikolai’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, before narrowing. “We do what’s necessary. You know this day is coming.”
Anger rose inside you, filling your chest, creeping up your throat, and flushing your cheeks. Your hand reached for something, anything - a book, a cushion, a rock, something to lob at your brother for saying something absolutely idiotic. Tamar cleared her throat before you could, and your hand shifted back to hover at your side, clenching in a fist.
“The Princess needs some air.” She announced, before crossing the room and placing a gentle hand between your shoulder blades, ushering you to the door and out of the room before you could do something truly stupid, like assault the King of Ravka. Brother or not, Saints can get away with it, you might not be able to.
“Nobody wants to marry a bastard princess.” You turned your head to hell over your shoulder. Tamar let out a long suffering sigh, and pushed more insistently at your back.
“You’d be surprised how much people love a bit of scandal.” Nikolai yelled right back, matching your tone. Tamar let out a groan, shutting the door behind both of you.
You walked through the halls in silence. Tamar hadn’t removed her hand, and you didn’t have it in you to shake it off. The touch was nice. Comforting even. “Are you going to tell me I’m ridiculous?” You demanded, watching her from the corner of her eyes. Her shoulders pushed back, maybe an inch. Being around her so long, you know every single tell. What each movement means. She’s about to say the ‘right,’ thing.
“Nikolai has everyone's best interests in mind.”
“Nikolai has Ravka’s best interests in mind.” That's your brother, always looking at the bigger picture. He doesn’t seem to understand that not everyone wants that life. Not everyone is made for it. He played a role for Ravka, as Sturmhond. “Why can’t I disappear for a few years?” You said absentmindedly, not expecting an answer.
“Ravka’s been through upheaval. It needs all hands on deck.” It, not hers. You’ve noticed her and Tolya don’t claim Ravka. If you were them, you wouldn’t either. You know for a fact they’ve only continued to stay here because of Alina, because of her blessing. Thank the saints for that. Without Tamar’s timely interventions, you may have assaulted several courtiers by now. Your loyalty is to your brother. Not the crown. The rest of the walk to the garden was spent in contemplative silence.
-
Tamar noticed you were a bit out of sorts. Normally you’d say anything on your mind, almost a stream of consciousness. She loved that about you. The word, even in her mind, almost made her wince. The princess needed some air, but so did she. Listening to Nikolai discuss your future, like you’re a prize mare to be sold off. As your official and unofficial bodyguard for the last few years, and more importantly your friend, she didn’t want this for you. You didn’t want this. Ravka’s best interests. Not yours. But she couldn’t do a damned thing about it. If you tried to run … would Nikolai make you track her down?
“Vlachka for your thoughts?”
“I’m in the mood for snap-dragon.” Why was that the first thing that came to my mind?
“Saints saints saints”, y/n cursed, sucking her fingers in her mouth. She’d never played snatch drakon before. They didn’t have the necessary ingredients on board often, but Tamar had bought them at the last port just for this purpose. For the holiday spirit, of course. Feast of Saint Nikolai, and it happened to be the bastards favorite game, and her and Tolya’s yearly gift to him.
It’s the dead of night, with just the stars and moon to brighten the deck. Spiced brandy fills a bowl, raisins and a bit of salt are tossed in. A match strikes, and the blue flames swirl up, giving everyone a ghost or demon-like face. Curses and laughs as fingers grab for the dried fruit. An easy grin fills Tamar’s face as she meets Y/N’s eyes, the mirth and joy in there warms her heart. Saints, she’d buy these every port visit to put a smile on her face … Tamar blinks heavily, reaching for another raisin. What was that?
Nostalgia, maybe, but winter is still months away.
“Feeling the holiday spirit already?” You asked half-heartedly.
Tamar didn’t answer, pushing the door open for you instead, her eyes scanning the room - taking in stock any exits or possible threats, even though she’d visited this area at least a dozen times. She noticed you doing the same, and doubted the habit will ever die. Useful, certainly, but it speaks to your shared past. That type of paranoia that comes with those experiences.
-
Being alone with Tamar. Well, it used to be normal to you, but since coming back to Os Alta you’ve always been surrounded by people, by others. It made it easier to ignore any lingering feelings for her. In fact, they were nearly gone. Months ago, Tamar opening a door for you would have given you a few butterflies, put a smile on your face - no matter how often it happened. You suppose it’s part of growing up, moving on from your first crush. But, part of you clings to it, clings to those last dregs of feeling. Maybe because she’s your main link to your past. A past only your brother truly understands, but Tamar knew you during those times. You wonder if she’s noticed any changes, and what they might be.
“How are you adjusting to palace life?” You asked instead, hoping to prompt some kind of conversation. You could always go to Tolya for advice, probably would end up doing so, but it’s a bit easier on your brain if there’s not poetry references shoved your way.
“About as well as you, I suppose.” The same easy grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes, her eyes stayed … sorrowful maybe?
“So shit.”
She snorted. “Maybe a bit better than you.” A slightly too long to be natural pause. “Was that your first time sneaking out?”
“You know the answer to that.” You deadpanned. No, just your first time being caught. A mistake you’ll do your best to remedy.
“Just take me next time.”
“That won’t draw any attention at all.” You drawled. Going out with Tamar is like putting a big sign on your back. “We might as well bring Nikolai.”
“Embarrassed of me, now?” Her tone was teasing, but her shoulders tightened. You might’ve hit a nerve.
“I heard Tamar’s already embarrassed you quite a bit.” Zoya’s voice cut through the air, and the tension.
“Does everyone know?” You groaned, turning to face your other friend. One who’d encouraged you to do something reckless. Your jaw dropped at the smug look. “You ratted me out, you little snake. You’re lucky I can’t light you on fire.”
“Then let's go out tonight, I’ll buy your first drink.”
If Zoya's offering to go out, especially to your kind of place, you know she's in need of some kind of distraction. The curve of your lips overrode the faked indignation. “I suppose that’s reasonable.”
“Fantastic.” Zoya breezed towards you, looping her arm through yours, and dragging you through the doors. ‘Sorry,’ you mouthed to Tamar as you were dragged along.
‘No need,’ She mouthed back, turning to exit through the other door, her steps quick.
-
As Tamar turns on her heel, walking away as fast as she casually can, she can’t help but think that maybe she shouldn’t have walked away that night. Maybe she did miss her chance. Would it have been worth taking?