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The actor switch with Vasily from season one to season 2 is always so goddamn funny to me, because like I know it's just because they had to switch actors for real world reasons, and he's a small enough character that I'm sure plenty of people didn't notice, but Genya how much work were you doing to make this happen
The grishaverse lacks of patronymics probably Leigh Bardugo again it’s not russian bullshit, which such weak excuse. The only making sense to not have them are Mal and Alina (even then how did get their name if by parents they should definitely be patronymic), while the darkling definitely should him not knowing his father is no excuse or wasn’t that woman on first name basis with the men she fucked , Nikolai And Vasily too cause why aren’t they Nikolai Aleksandrovich (works that even with his real dads name) Lanstov and Vasily Aleksandrovich Lanstov. Well at least it’s not shameless levels with patronymic as last name
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okay we’ve talked about how Vasily would react to the Dominik and Natalya situation and we both agreed Vasily would be even worse to a sister than a brother but in general how do you think he’d be towards Natalya?
so much rambling under the cut and none of it is coherent oops
ooh okay so i think he'd definitely echo a lot of their father's beliefs and i think that would include him being INCREDIBLY insistent on knowing about natalya and dominik's relationship (which yknow... not romantic in the slightest for natalya and dominik but vasily and alexander or whatever his name was dont really care about that). i do think their mother having the affair with magnus opjer informs a lot of how natalya is treated especially in regards to dominik (because OBVIOUSLY boys and girls cant be friends with each other smh).
i think he would kind of view natalya as competition of sorts for their parents' affection so he would try to tell on natalya a lot (mostly when they were younger) to get affection points from their parents. also i think he'd be kind of run of the mill misogynist (he kind of already is in canon </3) so that'd end up directed at natalya a lot.
it probably comes from a place of like... "my parents' love is conditional so i'm going to suck up to them and putting my sister down makes me feel better" and then like the king genuinely does prefer him because a) he's like his actual biological son and not the product of an affair, and b) he conforms to what a "lantsov man" should be.
i think he would enjoy being cruel, maybe poisoning just as a power play or maybe to keep natalya quiet about something (i don't know what exactly, but like... i don't know i think the "my brother tried to poison me when i was 12 lol" moment just kinda says a lot about natalya/nikolai's character with how ... flippant it seems?)
Summary - Sometimes you aren't sure if you should slap or kiss Nikolai. This is one of those times. 1.1k words
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“My mother was an oyster,” Nikolai says with a grin before winking at you. “And I’m the pearl.”
“Oh Saints, that was horrible Nikolai Lantsov,” you say with a laugh. This was one of those moments where you really weren’t sure if you should slap him or kiss him. This was always how it went, every evening. You and Nikolai finding yourselves tangled up in the sheets of his bed together, wrapped in each other’s embrace, away from the world and reality.
“I thought you enjoyed my good looks and my wit,” Nikolai responds with a chuckle before pushing himself up on one of his elbows to look at you, lips curving upwards into a grin. It was the kind of grin where you weren’t sure if you should slap him or kiss him.
“No. Quite the opposite,” you tease in response. You prop yourself up on your own elbow.
“The wit or the looks,” the King of Ravka inquires his grin widening. A few golden curls fall into his eyes.
You brush his hair away before responding with a grin of your own. “Both.”
Nikolai’s heart skips a beat at your touch. His free hand brushes over your hip, tracing small circles with his thumb, his gaze never leaving your face. “Now that’s just cruel. I’ve always believed that I’m––”
You cut him off immediately. “Don’t you dare call yourself boyishly handsome again,” you warn.
He looks almost offended. “Why not? What’s wrong with boyishly handsome?”
“You said it, that’s what’s wrong with it,” you respond, trying to suppress a smile still deciding if you should slap him or kiss him.
“Am I meant to believe that you don’t find me terribly handsome,” Nikolai challenges playfully, eyebrows raising slightly as you drop your head back onto the pillow.
You laugh in response, cheeks going slightly rosy. “On the contrary, I find you as beautiful as an unmoving rock with no shine or shimmer.”
He repeats his mock offended look before wrapping his arms around your waist, and half pressing himself on top of you. His chest against yours. “I’m a rock? I suppose that is the reason you cannot seem to get me off of you.”
You half-heartedly try to push him off of you but in truth you want to stay like that forever. Your legs remain tangled with his. “Whatever would Vasily think if he found us here,” you ask with a smile.
“I’m wounded. You lay here with me, yet all you can think about is my brother,” Nikolai asks before dramatically placing his hand over his heart, falling to the side of you.
You rolled your eyes in response before shaking your head. Yes, you certainly could get used to this. After a few moments of silence Nikolai pulls you back into his arms. Your forehead rests against his shoulder as he ghosts his fingers up and down your bare spine. You stay like for a while, a long while. At random times he presses kisses across your face––he middle of your forehead, your temple, cheeks, lips, chin, forehead again. “I meant to talk to you about something earlier today when we passed in the corridor.”
“About what,” you ask him, the Ravkan King’s fingers still gently running up and down your spine.
“Us,” he mutters.
“Mm?” You ask him before he gently presses his lips to yours.
One of his hands travels to your cheek, thumb gently brushing over it, back and forth methodically. The hand on your back pauses just below your shoulder blade. “I have a question. What if I asked you to marry me?”
“What?” You ask, sounding shocked. You did not expect that. You and Nikolai had been seeing each other secretly for almost a year. You preferred it that way. For one, you weren’t be closely inspected and watched by everyone in the court, and for two you were convinced the court and perhaps the people of Ravka would never except you as Nikolai’s choice. You certainly didn’t come from royalty. You were not a Grisha with fancy powers. You were someone who he met by chance. Nikolai’s words pulled you from your own head.
“Will you marry me?” He whispers.
“You and I both know that wouldn’t be wise right now.” You give him a sympathetic look.
This time Nikolai looks actually shocked. Shocked because when would he choose what’s supposedly wise to Ravka’s court when’s he and the Ravkan people are too damn in love with you. “Who cares about what’s wise? I love you and as much as you might not believe it, the people love you too. From what they’ve seen of your work. All I know is that I love you and you are what would be good for the people. Forget about the damn court. I love you and I want you as my spouse. To hell with the fallout. So for Saints’ sake––for my sake, marry me,” he says. He’s clearly determined. His gaze is fixed on you. He doesn’t care about logic, or the flaws in the plan he just wants to be your husband, your lover and best friend from now through eternity.
“So the King of Ravka plans to keep his marriage secret, is that your plan? How would you manage that,” you ask him, skeptical of the entire situation.
Nikolai pulls you even closer to him if that is even possible. “What do you mean ‘secret’? I want everyone to know who and what you are to me. My best friend, my partner, my soulmate, my Queen. To hell with everyone who can’t accept us, but there will be no secrecy on my part. I will stand by the person I love, regardless of what the rest of the world thinks.”
“You and your damn mouth,” you say with a breathy laugh. “I will marry you one condition. We slowly wade in. We don’t tell anyone we are engaged, we get people used to the idea of us then we announce our engagement, and then we get married.”
“As long as I’m with you. Secretly together, engaged, married, whatever.” There is a momentary pause before Nikolai grins again, that same stupid one that makes you unsure if you should slap him or kiss. “I never heard a definitive yes from you, Darling. Will you marry me?”
You let out another breathy laugh before deciding that kissing him was the better option at the moment. Nikolai’s arms tighten around your middle, facing coming closer to you. Then his lips are on yours and you think Yes. The kiss was definitely the right choice.
“Prince Zorin’s twentieth nameday should be the grandest celebration the kingdom has seen thus far.” Maester Ronnell is saying, gesturing with a lot of enthusiasm for someone in his seventies. “Sun Cast has been celebrating all week; we cannot let such slums outshine the palace.”
“I doubt Sun Cast is outshining the palace in any way other than a distinct lack of clothing.” You drawl, running a pointed nail across the smooth wood in front of you. From your left, legs crossed and smirking, Prince Nikolai lets out a small laugh. You ignore it. “But I agree. The palace will hold a feast at the end of the week. Afterwards, food should be sent to the surrounding cities of Ravka. Let the common people know Prince Zorin cares for them as well.”
“Yes, yes…” the Maester nods, stroking his beard. “Prince Zorin will like that. It’s good for the uh…normal folk to…realize who cares..” he trails off, seeming distracted, and the prince beside you sits up straighter.
“It was your idea,” Nikolai objects, looking to you. “let the ‘normal folk’ know their Queen chose to share the celebration with them.”
“Don’t be an idiot.” You snap, turning your gorgon gaze onto him, and the prince weakens visibly. His brow furrows, mouth turning downwards at the corners, eyes seeming to plead for…for what? This has been normal for the past year and a half or so. Ever since he.. “The Crown will act in Prince Zorin’s interests as he is heir. As far as I’m concerned, any decision made in this council is in Zorin’s name. Correct?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Ser Dominik, recently appointed Captain of the Royal Guard, speaks after a tense pause, all eyes on you and the prince. “While we know of your influence, we appreciate the way you..allow others to be seen as well.”
You, Nikolai, and Dominik all seem to be locked in a three-way of eye-contact; you, trying to figure out if Dominik is just yapping instead of helping, Nikolai wanting to be supported and feeling slightly betrayed by his best friend’s interjection, and Dominik, looking pained as he forces a nervous smile.
You break the pause.
“Thank you, Ser Dominik.” You say, nodding once, and quickly change the subject. “Now. We need to discuss the recent skirmishes at the Eastern border. If I hear about one more soldier pissing themselves over some vagrants I think I’ll lose my head.” The room relaxes into easy chuckles, the men around you more comfortable when you take charge of these meetings.
Ignoring Nikolai’s wounded stare, you glance to a dark-haired man with a large broadsword sitting attentively across the table. “Master Ralgar? Your report?”
—
Your feet carry you swiftly to your rooms that evening, a trio of dutiful ladies accompanying you. They whisper between themselves as you walk, your ears pricked for information as you watch the tapestries, the windows, and greet guards and attendants with an easy smile.
“She’s with child,” one girl is saying, keeping her voice low as if you can’t hear her. “I mean…she looks it anyways.”
“She is not with child.” Your closest handmaiden, Thalia, says. “She’s a liar and a bitch and—”
“Ladies.” You start calmly, glancing over your shoulder. They all stiffen, faces turned into masks of complete innocence. You almost laugh. “Just because someone looks pregnant doesn’t mean they are.”
“She’s lying about it!” Thalia bursts, then blushes profusely. “I mean, it’s that red-haired woman. The one Vasily sent away. I think she’s trying to get compensation or something.”
You smirk.
“Compensation?”
“I don’t know I think she just feels slighted.”
“As she should be. My husband is a man whose interests change like the tides.”
“But—” Thalia stops, glancing at the two other red-faced girls. “I mean, aren’t you upset?” Oh, Thalia. Saints bless the girl. If anyone cares about you, it’s her.
“Why would I be?” You ask, turning your head to continue your walk. “It’s one less bitch in court. As you said.”
The giggles that follow bring a small smile to your lips.
“Your Majesty!” The four of you pause, your head turning a fraction as a boy runs up behind. He’s out of breath by the time he stops, hands on his hips. He holds up a hand almost comically, as if you all weren’t already waiting, before he speaks. “It’s—Prince Zorin. He’s here early. He requests your presence in the Throne Room.”
“Requests my—” you straighten, forcing a placid, icy little smile onto your beautiful face. The boy shrinks back. “Of course. Lead the way.” You gesture towards the hall and the boy spins on his heel, guiding you and your handmaidens towards the room in question.
-
Zorin is lounging dramatically on the throne when you enter. His eyes, coal black, zero in on you as you approach. Your bow to him is almost amusingly low, the courtiers lingering on the sidelines beginning to whisper the second your eyes meet the Prince’s.
“My Queen.” He drawls, giving you a twisted smile. Saints, sometimes you wonder if there’s actually a real person underneath that mask of hate. “I have come from Sun Cast to await this weekends festivities. I hope it’s not a bother that I’m early?”
“Your presence is always desired, my prince.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t do that.” He laughs, leaning forward to peer closer at you. When you tense, straightening up, he clicks his fingers and points at you. “There, there—you see?” He looks towards no one in particular. “She hates me. I told—”
“Is there something I can help you with, my prince?” You interrupt, clasping your hands together placidly in front of you.
Zorin pauses.
“Yes.” He nods. “Yes. I’d like someone to attend the parties in Sun Cast for the next few days. Someone…representing the royal crown.” His oily little smile is back and you try to repress a shudder. “Surely the Queen would enjoy a holiday.”
“My business is here, Your Highness. I’m sure—”
“—that you’ll come back next week nice and tan and relaxed? I agree.”
“But—"
“My uncle will accompany you.”
At that, you laugh, high and strangled, your eyebrows raised high.
“Nikolai? You cant send—” There’s an uncomfortable clearing of a throat and you glance to your left, watching as Nikolai approaches a few feet farther from where he’d been hidden inside the crowd of onlookers. Your mouth dries as you take in the tired look on his face, his eyes a deep, vast blue as he watches you. “Nikolai, I—”
“It’s just a few days, Your Majesty.” Nikolai says softly, forcing a quick smile. “Surely that’s alright?”
Caught in a bind, you glance from Prince Zorin’s smirk to Nikolai’s wounded smile. You sigh and nod, resisting the urge to run a hand through your hair.
“Alright.” You say, throwing your hands up. “Alright. Fine.”
-
“It’s not so bad.” Nikolai says, glancing around the large bedroom in Prince Zorin’s home in Sun Cast. “Hardly a palace but the view…” you were ignoring him as best you could as you unpacked the bags for ladies put together but now you glance over, watching his slender hands pull back a large, sheer curtain.
The sunlight is orange across the floors that always seem to hold a bit of sand, a light dusting that crackles under your bare feet as you approach the window by his side. He’s right—the view is…wow.
As far as the eye can see are red and orange brick homes, bright banners and tapestries, ribbons of shimmering purple and blue weaving between rooftops. Tan people of all ages and shapes linger in the streets below, laughter and gossip filling the warm breeze. Nikolai, beside your, gently pressing his fingertips against your lower back before he points to something in the distance, steering your gaze there.
“See that?” He murmurs, keeping his voice low, almost sensual. You meet his gaze for a brief second before following his finger again, towards the ocean beyond. “No, there.”
“I don’t see—”
“Look, white sails.” He urges, his hand now tapping your chin a fraction. You see it, then—a large ship. Multiple large ships. “People from the Southern cities—”
“This is a Southern city—"
“More South. Shh, wait—” he chuckles, placing a finger over your lips to shush you when you try to interrupt again. “Let me speak, woman.”
You move your head away but can’t help but feel amused by his boyish grin, his hand on your back slowly flattening until his warm palm is resting against the base of your spine.
“I’m listening.” You sigh, raising a brow. The dimples in his cheeks show when he smiles a fraction more, pulling you closer to point out the ships again.
You listen to him talk for a little while, explaining different sigils and names while you nod, somehow not feeling the urge to move away. In fact, when his hand begins to rub up and down your spine slowly, voice still low and soft, you relax, feeling the tension begin to leave your muscles.
“I won’t bother you here.” He says suddenly, making your eyes dart back to his. The blue is somber again, that new, slightly pained twinge to them that’s existed since that night in your study. “I promise. I know I’ve—I mean, I know you—“
“Nik?” You interrupt softly, reaching out to touch his face. Your grip his jaw in your hand and nod once, not allowing him to turn away. “I know. What happened we…I mean, it cannot happen again.”
“Of course.”
“It was a mistake.”
“Yes.”
But your grip tightens a fraction and he gazes down at you, eyes darkening with a hint of lust as he subtly licks his bottom lip to wet it. Your eyes track the movement and you follow it, your own mouth going a bit slack.
“Good.” You finally blurt, stepping back before he can close the gap. “Glad that’s settled.”
“Of course.” He coughs lightly, almost tripping when he turns quickly towards the door. He pauses at the last second. “Meet me at sunset, by the way.”
