Hii, could you write a nikolai x healer reader where she is nikolai's personal healer ever since kirigan gave her to the royal family. They got veryyyyyyy close almost too close. Because of this, she was also his protecter and if he did anything wrong she would get the repercussions and when he when of to be sturmhond and left her behind she was almost killed. Then he comes back and she doesn't talk to him and tries to avoid him at all cost then he corners her and asks what's wrong.
(This may be more sadistic than what you had requested but my imagination went off the rails)
in which a girl who loved the prince was given the darkest power of them all.
The room that was held in the lowest cell of the Little Palaceâs dungeon was freezing, even on the warmest of days in Ravkan.
The girl had been close once, to the prince. Had been in love with him. Had shared his own quarters on his insistence that he could be stabbed in the night and needed his favorite healer with him. But she was property of Kirigan, had been since heâd practically raised her, and the general didnât take kindly to what belonged to him. And heâd noticed her affections, as much as heâd noticed the princeâs feelings for her.
So when heâd left, the prince, her Nikolai, even though sheâd been ordered to keep him there so she could spy on him, she hadnât protested. Sheâd wanted him outâwanted him away from Kiriganâs clutches, especially when her dark master had begun brewing up monstrosities in the hidden dungeons under the palace.
She could picture Nikolaiâs face, even then, as she laid on the cold, hard ground. The healer had long since given up on her life, but not on his. The Darklingâs strange minions tortured her daily, and every punishment was some new form of Hell. First came the voices. It was fellow Grisha, their tortured screams echoing around her, the sound so close they couldâve been in the next cell. But then it was Nikolai, Nikolai who she heard screaming for help, for her, Nikolai whose bones were being broken, skin marred, and she could do nothing but sob at the bars or cover her ears and wail against the floor.
Next was the altar. That stone altar that had chained her up as his minions sliced into her, burned her, broke her, reconstructing and bending her power to its greatest limits. Her voice broke from strain and she couldnât speak for days after those long, horrific hours on the table, where she begged Saints that did not answer for death.
Then came the experimenting. Kirigan attempted new ways for her to use her power, trying to mold her into a demon of a Grisha. He insisted there were secrets the Grisha hid from the healers, ways to bend and burn and turn people inside out. But she had refused, all up until the day that one of her fellow healers was dragged down there, and Kirigan threatened to strap her to that disgusting altar and torture her until Y/N agreed to submit.
And a piece of herself left every time he brought a new criminal to practice on. Every time she bent the very blood in a personâs body, until she watched that blood creep out from every exit point, until the sight of the red leaking from her victims didnât inspire horror from her but a strange, blank, hollowness.
Three years since sheâd been hauled down here as punishment, and the prince was back. She was instructed to kill him as soon as possible, told that she could leave her cell when she wanted, but Y/N only laid there, soul completely gone, and stared at the walls until her eyelids could not hold themselves up any longer.
Kirigan was beginning to panic. The girlâhis prized weaponâwas fading away. No amount of torture would persuade her now; he knew she had passed her breaking point, and sheâd likely kill herself before allowing his minions to lay hands on her ever again. So he tried a different direction. He bought her gifts, had her transported to lavish, comfortable chambers. He offered her riches beyond imaginableâbooks he knew she loved, music to be played, invitations to parties and plays and concert halls.
But she just laid in bed, refusing to eat. All she could see when she opened her eyes was blood. And all she could hear whenever people neared her was the rush of it inside their veins. It was its own kind of torture. Especially when Nikolai, Saints bless him, somehow found out where she was staying. And when he came to her rooms, her heart began to beat so fast in her chest she was almost sick.
âWhat theâfor fucks sake, Y/N.â He gasped, lurching towards her side, taking her gaunt face in his hands. She recoiled from his touch, almost gagging when she felt every pulse of his heart, could hear and sense every artery, every single capillary, every veinâŚ
Her magic thrummed beneath her skin. Her magic, her power, had become a monster of its own, tortured alongside her. But where she was broken, it was fixed. Where she was tired, it was starving. So it took everything in her to say the words she spoke, voice hoarse from disuse.
âI donât want to see you ever again.â She told him, heart breaking at the hurt expression on his face.
âIts beenâitâs been three years, Y/N. Iâve written you at least a hundred lettersâwhere have you been? I was so worried for you. No one seemed to be able to find out what happened to you until a week ago when a servant reported you alive.â His hands grasped her face again, ignoring the disgust on her face because it was breaking his own heart, as well. âI thought you loved me. I thought weââ
âWeâll youâre wrong.â She hissed, jolting up, forcing herself away from him. Her face had drained of color andâno. It wasnât that. It was that she had grown almost ten shades paler. Like she hadnât been in the sun for years. His stomach lurched. What had theyâ âI do not love you. I could never love such an arrogant, prissyââ
He held up a hand to stop her foul words, his chest aching as he took in a trembling breath. All this time. Every night he had longed for her, had written to her, had craved her touch and her scent and her lips against his, and sheâŚsheâŚ
âYou must truly hate me,â he started, voice low. âif you would pretend to love me and then treat me this way.â
She was quiet, and when he looked at her, he saw that she was shaking. Her eyes were tear filled and she turned away, looking out towards the window. Saints, she was thin. Andâand there were scars on her small arms. Scars andâand were those burn marks?
Nikolaiâs stomach roiled with nausea as he reached for her, hesitating for half a second before touching her hand that was curled into a fist against the bed.
âPlease do not touch me.â She whispered, all trace of malice gone from her voice, and so he didnât.
Tears of his own were beginning to fill as he watched her, watched her thin shoulders shake as she shoved down her emotions. When he finally spoke, barely able to push back that knot in his throat, he told her about the Sun Summoner. About the Darklingâs betrayal and the war on the horizon. About the sea whip and the adventures heâd been on. About how he loved her, and had missed her, and how heâd doing anything for her to justâŚsmile at him again.
But she was quiet, and after a full minute had passed, he wiped the wetness from his face and stood, headed towards the door.
âDo not come to me again.â Her voice was so quiet he hardly heard it and he turned, pained and stunned. âIâI donât think I canâŚâ her throat cleared. âThe things heâI donât know if I can stop myself if you..â she couldnât finish her sentence, couldnât finish the thought, and his mind raced as he tried to understand what exactly she was saying to him.
âKirigan?â He asked, brows furrowed, and she stilled. âKirigan? Tell me, Y/N, and Iâll fix this. Youâll come home with me, tonight, and weâllââ
âThis cannot be fixed.â She said, so slowly it sounded as if there was a period in between each word. âI have beenâŚI cannot see you.â
âJust look at me.â He insisted, frustration and pain and fear rising when she didnât. âPlease. Just look at me and acknowledge that I love you, that Iâll fight for you, and we can fix this.â
He watched her shoulders droop as she turned, fixing him with a look full of hope and sadness. He almost dropped to his knees but managed to stand, holding his shoulders back the way a prince would.
âIâm taking you with me.â He told her, voice firm. âYouâre not staying in thisâthis place. I swear to take care of you, for the rest of my life, if need be.â When he didnât respond, he added, âI love you. Please believe me.â
So the girl swallowed, blinking at her prince, and moved, standing on shaking, too skinny legs. And she followed him wordlessly out, neither of them touching, as they left for his carriage towards the grand palace.
The war had been bloody and horrific. The other Grishaâthe ones working for Kirigan, had power like nothing the others had ever seen. But it was the figure in a black dress, flimsy and ridiculously thin, that strode across the quiet feel towards Kiriganâs army. That was the figure that struck everyone dumb, staring at her determined face and gaunt body.
Nikolai and his friends froze, watching her emerge from the fort, expression so blank it was like looking at a ghost. She stared back at the enemy Grisha that looked at her, confusion in their eyes at her weaponless state.
âYou,â the brunette in the front, the one that threw ice at her prince, started, voice trembling a fraction. âYouâre umâyouâre General Kiriganâs prize, right? The one he uh,â she looked at the others; shame had coated some of their faces, and she wondered how much they truly knew of her torture. Nikolai had gone deathly pale at the sight of her. âwe wonât hurt you. Justâjust come over here, and weâll shield you, okay? Youâll be safe, Y/N.â
All fighting had ceased, watching the exchange with interest and tension, and the fire bearing Grisha beside the brunette spoke up.
âCome on, Y/N. Youâre safe with us.â
And as Nikolai watched her, heart climbing in his throat, a small, sinister smile began to pull at the healerâs mouth.
âIâd like you to tell Kirigan something for me, if you donât mind.â She whispered, her low voice quiet enough that everyone stopped moving, stopped breathing, in order to hear her. âTell him I love him for what he did to me.â She said, and her hands moved.
The Grisha didnât have a chance.
They dropped the ground, almost as one, all of them; they clutched their throats and gasped, unable to use their power if they tried. But Y/N simply tilted her head to the side, watching with a hungry, hateful stare.
When blood seeped from their eyes, their noses, their mouths, Nikolai turned and vomited onto the ground, the sight something of a nightmare made reality. The Grisha were dead within seconds, every single one of them, and Y/N sank onto the ground, her eyes finding Tolyaâs. He was closest, his sword in hand, and the only one not shaking with fear.
âKill me, please.â She whispered, still feeling utterly numb at what sheâd just done.
âIf you touch her,â Nikolai panted, shoving himself to his feet. âI will kill you where you stand.â
Her gaze snapped to the princeâs as he approached, then dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around her. He breathed in her scent, ignoring the whispers around them, not when her pale hand moved hesitantly up to touch his back.
âIâm so sorry.â He whispered, piecing together her behaviorâher appearanceâwhat the Grisha had saidâand then her power. Her dark power that was unnatural, that was nothing heâd ever seen before. âI wonât leave you again. Iâm sorry.â
He pressed a kiss against her brow and she sighed, leaning into him. The power in her had been satisfied by the multitude of quick deaths, and his blood didnât roar in her ears the way it sometimes did when heâd brought her to the palace, had brought her to his rooms, had fed her soup and clothed her and jabbered away even if she didnât respond.
And on the days she refused to get out of bed, her expression haunted, he stayed beside her, refusing to leave the woman he loved. Not when he knew, somehow, that sheâd been tortured ever since he had left. And though she still refused to tell him what had happenedâŚwell, they had time for that later.
âI doââ she swallowed, trying to bring the words out of her. âI doâloveâŚyou.â She said, her throat practically searing against the phrase, as the power inside her growled its disapproval. But Nikolai only kissed her forehead again, utterly unafraid of her.
She pulled back to look at him, touching his face with a tiredness that was bone deep, and forced her eyes not to linger on the gash on his head. If she did, she might feel the urge to see just how much it could bleed.
âIâmâŚâ she swallowed again. Sheâd hardly spoken a word in months; it felt strange to communicate in more than nods or shakes of her head. âIâm going toâŚkill..â
He saw the look in her eyes and helped her up, his friends backing away from the girl as if she had the Black Plague. But her eyes simply swept over the clearing, meeting every gaze she saw, and spoke. For the first time in three years, she felt a sense of strength.
âKirigan is mine.â She said, glaring around at them once more, before striding off into the distance, stepping over the bodies of her fallen Grisha on the way out of the fortress.
Kirigan had died begging.
She was laughing as she tugged his blood from his body, his eyes pleading with her. She had even mocked him, mocked him, miming choking on something as he gurgled and gagged on his own lifeâs blood. And when he was dead, good and truly dead, a strange weight whooshed out of her and she collapsed, panting.
Nikolai was at her side in seconds, Alina having had cleared the Fold, and when his hand touched her shoulder she felt, for the first time in a long time, no thrum of heartbeat. No hint of blood. She turned to look at him, eyes wide; Kiriganâs death had somehow reversed the damage. She raised her hands, healing the gash on his head, and sobbed in relief when his skin stitched together instead of tearing apart.
âDarling,â he sighed, gathering her into him, holding her close. âdarling youâre safe. Youâre free, now.â
âMyââ she choked as she gasped for air, hardly able to breathe past the ache of relief in her chest. âNikolai, I need you. I need you beside me.â
âI am yours.â He said simply, holding her close, and wondered, for the first time in a while, if a future with the woman he loved was truly possible.
And later, after months of healing, after hesitant attempts at stitching wounds, of curing illnesses, of gaining her color and gorgeous figure back, she finally told him of the horrors she had endured. When he had wept for her, sheâd promised she loved him, and had endured it for him. For they would do anything for each otherâanything.
And damn them if Kirigan would ever interfere again.
donât ask where or why I came up with this but itâs gnarly to me to imagine someone with that kind of power xx