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Nikolai Lantsov knew he had to marry. After the Civil War, Ravka was left far too vulnerable. With his affliction , he knew the royal line of succession was at risk. Especially with the fact that he’s yet to take a wife and bear an heir.
His advisors, the Grisha Triumvirate, have done nothing but encourage his search for a wife. And yet, none of them seemed to be good enough for him. No alliance was good enough, and choosing one over the other would certainly ruffle some feathers among Ravka’s other allies.
That was until today. Zoya came bearing news.
“The Royal Princess of Fjerda wishes to meet with you,” Zoya explained briefly, “It appears she’s decided to concern herself with your marital status as well.”
“Princess y/n Grimjer?” Nikolai’s ears perked up at Zoya’s statement. Though his mother’s marriage to his father was a sad attempt at reconciliation between the two countries, his marriage to y/n Grimjer would’ve been beneficial to Ravka on the front of protecting the Grisha.
“That’s the one,” Zoya nodded.
“Why would the king of Fjerda allow to such a thing?” Nikolai’s brows furrowed. There was nothing but spite shared between both countries. There was no way Fjerda would ally itself with Ravka on this grand of a scale.
“That’s for you to find out, should you meet with her,” Zoya shrugged, “In my opinion, marriage to the Fjerdan Princess would help a lot. She’s age-appropriate, I hear she’s incredibly beautiful, and I hear she’s quite smart too.
“Right,” Nikolai nodded briefly, “What harm is there in meeting with her?”
Zoya sent the word out to the Fjerdans that y/n was willing to meet with him. She was more than confident at the fact that it wasn’t a trap as she would be the one to come to Os Alta, rather than having Nikolai make the trip to Fjerda to leave Ravka vulnerable to Fjerda’s attacks.
She arrived briefly, taking up residence in one of Ravka’s grandest hotels. It was until the day after her arrival did y/n make her way into the Grand Palace, accompanied only by two Druskelle, both scowling at the sight of the Grisha’s colorful keftas.
“Moy Tsar,” she stopped before the throne, greeting him with a deep bow.
“Princess y/n,” Nikolai stood up from his throne, then bowing too.
“Please, please, do not bow. I am the visiting party here, your highness,” she shook her head, her cheeks glowing a furious red. Despite how brutal the Fjerdans were as enemies, the women were shy, and modest. Just as their princess proved to be.
“Right, my apologies,” Nikolai nodded, a charming smile on his face.
“I request a private audience to discuss my proposition,” she spoke in a more confident tone this time.
“No,” Zoya cut in, a serious expression on her face, standing defensively in front of Nikolai.
“The Druskelle will remain here in the throne room. You’re free to post a guard or five in the doorway,” the Fjerdan spoke again, a more insistent look in her eyes, “You can decide on which room to meet me in. Take any precaution you deem necessary.”
“No need,” Nikolai nodded, making his way down to her level, holding his arm out to her. She eyed it warily, teeth bared slightly, before nodding and taking his arm in hers as he led the way towards a private room.
“Not even an hour into meeting each other and you already want me all to yourself,” Nikolai chuckled flirtatiously in an attempt to clear out the dead air between them both.
“If I married you, I’d be your queen, yes?” she questioned, turning to Nikolai with such urgency, “I will reside in Ravka, free of the Fjerdan rule?”
“Of course. Though, I don’t know why the one of the heirs to the Fjerdan throne would want to leave Fjerda,” Nikolai muttered, taking in her rushed tone of speaking.
“Please, I would not inherit the Fjerdan throne,” she scoffed, reminding the Ravkan King of the way things were done in Fjerda. Men were left to rule and conquer while women played the part of their pretty little wives.
“Why are you here?”
“Well, let’s just say my mother was not as opposed to Grisha as Fjerdan women are meant to be,” she muttered quietly, then holding her hand out to Nikolai’s cheek, “May I?”
“I’ve always thought Fjerdan women were so modest, but—”
“I’m not trying to kiss you, Nikolai Lantsov,” she shook her head, pulling her hand away from her cheek, “I have something I must tell you, but I believe it would be easier for me to show you.”
She clenched her fists, gathering them as her fingers danced around the air. To anybody, it would seem as though this Fjerdan was simply stretching out her fingers, but Nikolai knew better. She was summoning.
The shadows around the room began to pool around him, seemingly oozing out the walls and gathering around them both. Nikolai knew this power far too well. It was the same one residing in his bones. It was the same power accursed to him. The very reason he could not serve the country as much as he would have liked.
“You’re a shadow summoner,” he gaped, watching as she pulled the shadows back into place, her nervous expression a juxtaposition to the way her skin glowed. The same glow the Grisha would have when they used their abilities.
“My mother and the Darkling had some…history?” she stated, unsure of how to phrase it. Here she was, telling the king of her country’s rival of her mother’s infidelity. Informing him that she was of no noble blood at all, “I fear the people will riot if they knew of this.”
Nikolai nodded, taking in what she’d been telling him. He knew what the Fjerdans did to the Grisha. If they knew their beloved princess carried the same blood as the one Grisha who stood as the biggest threat to Fjerda, they’d have her head and leave her body to burn over a pyre.
“So, you wish to marry into the Ravkan throne as a means to escape your own country’s laws against the Grisha?” Nikolai questioned, piecing everything together, “You’re their princess, why don’t you just make the necessary reforms?”
“You and I know citizens don’t take kindly to reforms. Not when it’s what they’ve grown to know throughout our history,” y/n shook her head as Nikolai nodded knowingly, “I’ve tried. I’ve made propositions to the court, but they knock me down. They constantly tell me my only duty as the Fjerdan Princess would be to find a suitable husband to take the Grimjer name.”
“And they’d let you marry into the Ravkan throne?” Nikolai questioned, raising a brow at her, “I doubt it would be that easy to build peace between our nations. Much less get your parents to allow this union to happen.”
“It wouldn’t matter. It’s a political move. Ravka and its Grisha remain to be our greatest adversaries. We’ve had a Fjerdan, your mother, on the Ravkan throne, but we’ve never had a Grimjer on the Ravkan throne,” she stated. It was true. Perhaps a Grimjer on the Ravkan throne may finally cement the alliance between the two nations.
“Are you sure this alliance would work?” Nikolai questioned after a moment of contemplation.
“No, but it’s currently the best chance you have at an alliance with Fjerda you have,” the princess shrugged proudly, knowing Ravka desperately needed to make amends with at least one of their two neighboring countries, “The Fjerdan military working with the Second Army could go awry, but what if it doesn’t? The Fjerdan and Ravkan military working against the Shu would be effective. That and you’d have no need to further empty Ravka’s coffers on military expenditure.”
“You know of Ravka’s financial situation?” Nikolai spoke, shocked at this. The Fjerdans knew Ravka was broke, and yet they didn’t act on this knowledge?
“Who doesn’t? Why do you think the Shu continue to send their Kherghud? It’s because they know about how you guys don’t have the militia to bring them down yet,” y/n stated as though it were the most obvious thing ever, “They’re picking apart your Grisha because they know you can’t afford to stop them.”
“What do you know about the Khergud?” Nikolai questioned, raising a brow at her remark.
“They can most certainly smell Grisha. I almost got outed as Grisha in court because of these damn Shu,” she growled, her fists clenching, then turning to Nikolai with a curt smile on her face, “Which is why it’s of utmost importance that I find a way to remain in Ravka for as soon as possible and as long as possible.”
“You’ve thought this through,” Nikolai nodded out of respect to the woman. She was laying her cards out on the table, and she was doing so with great efficiency. She’d thought this through and she knew what she was doing. Which was surprising for a Fjerdan woman.
“Of course,” she nodded before making her to the door, “Please, consider my proposition. Take as much time as possible, it’s not like we have the stake of two countries on the line.”
“Wait!” he called out, taking her hand in his gloved hand. She gasped at the feel of the leather against her hands. At first, he believed it to be because she felt scandalized at the contact, but he’d soon realize it was due to something different.
“ Korol Rezni ,” she mumbled lowly, her hand wrapping itself tighter against his, “It was more than a moniker. He left you scarred. I can feel the traces of his power in you. Djel, have you lived with this since the civil war?”
“Good to know the Fjerdans didn’t know about all our nation’s secrets,” Nikolai smirked in an attempt to charm his way out of this conversation.
“May I?” she questioned, her fingers dancing along the hem of the gloves. He nodded, allowing her to remove the gloves, revealing the same dark talons of the monster.
“I know, it’s an abomination. Such hands for a face as handsome as mine?” Nikolai cried out jokingly, earning a stern glance from the Fjerdan.
“And your Fabrikators and healers have come to no solution to this?” she questioned, running her fingers along the length of the claws, feeling the traces of the Darkling’s power thrumming against the pads of her fingers.
“They’ve tried,” he chuckled darkly, “Even had Sun Summoners try to help with my situation. The best thing we could come up with was chaining me to bed.”
“Kinky,” she muttered, earning a look of surprise from Nikolai, smirking at her remark.
“And here I thought Fjerdan women were demure.”
“I was the only heir to the throne for a while. They had no choice but to make sure I didn’t end up like those feeble Fjerdan wives, easily swayed by displays of strength. No, they had to make sure I was smart enough to make a good decision in who I gave my hand to,” y/n shrugged, a small blush making its way to her face, “And you are no abomination, Nikolai. You are simply, Korol Rezni , a scarred king. I’d offer to take those scars away, but without any Grisha to turn to for guidance in Fjerda, there’s no way for me to know exactly what I’m meant to do.”
“Which is why this alliance would definitely help us both. You can learn to properly use your powers, help me with my condition, and we could build a solid alliance between Ravka and Fjerda. Everybody wins!” Nikolai exclaimed excitedly. Though he’d put his vulnerabilities onto the table with this Fjerdan, he was sure he had enough leverage on her from what she’d told him. They needed each other.
“So, you’re accepting my proposition?” she questioned, raising a brow at the King who stood in front of her. He smiled, getting down on one knee.
“I, the King of Ravka, will gladly take your hand in marriage, kind Princess of Fjerda,” Nikolai smiled up at her, taking her hand in his talons, “May we have a prosperous marriage, and a just as prosperous alliance.”