Lost in the Shadows - Part One?
Pairing - General Kirigan x female!reader - AU!soulmates Rating - 14+ (tw: attempted assault, violence) Summary - female!reader has lived her life fighting for the Second Army, watching friends die, and losing pieces of herself each time. When it comes time for her to be placed in a new unit, trouble arises and a certain dark Grisha comes into her life. Authors Note: if this gains enough attention I may possibly do more parts to this. This was just an idea that bounced around in my head for some time now.
Y/N's hands trembled before her, blood beginning to dry against her skin. She wasn't sure how much of the blood was actually hers or how much was from her unit. Y/N was a part of a special unit of trackers for the Second Army. Often they tracked down soldiers who defected or other war criminals but this mission, one given to them by the Grisha, was no more than a death sentence. Y/N knew that as soon as they were told they'd be crossing enemy lines, but what was she to do? Her job was to follow orders or die trying and that's what her unit did.
They were no more than five miles behind enemy lines, tracking a war criminal who was wanted for the murder of two Grisha and several Second Army soldiers. Y/N wondered why this wasn't made purely Grisha's affair, seeing as it was two of their own who died. The general insisted they were to go, avenge their own men first. Y/N's memories were foggy, only fragments of memories made it through the cracks.
Her unit was stuck down quickly and quietly in the shade of the night. There was no warning until it was too late. By the time they had realized what was going on, half of the six-member team was struck down with arrows. Men yelled, gargling with blood in their throats as they fell to their knees. Ken and David, two brothers, screamed for each other, reaching to hug each other one last time. Y/N tried to push them out of the line of fire but dozens of arrows rained down upon them like hellfire. Y/N was struck three times, once in the leg, arm, and side as she pushed her unit mates, brothers, to the ground. The brothers were dead before they hit the snow.
After this, Y/Ns memory became nonexistent. Just a void of time and pain. She was told by a Second Army general she was found in friendly territory by Grisha-led Second Army units. Barely alive and heavily frostbitten, they thought she was COW, a causality of war.
After weeks of healing and questioning, Y/N was expected to join yet another unit, her fourth unit in two years. Base camp had created a nickname for her, Cold Death, mocking Y/N for the death of her previous units. Whispers said that she was a curse and that any unit Y/N would be a part of meant certain death. Y/N was shunned by the entire Second Army for surviving. Loneliness wasn't a new concept to her, never having someone to call a friend. She couldn't even manage to befriend a mapmaker or a cook for the mess hall. Y/N was, is, a loner. This time, however, it was different. It was like the harsh winter cold that seeped in her bones as the worth was bled from her body, never left. Instead, it infected Y/N like a disease, rippling through her skin and sinking its teeth into her heart. She felt emotionless, bare of anything short of hunger pains but even then, Y/N stopped attending mess hours. She was already shunned for being part Shu but now having a curse following her around-it was the last coffin spike to be hit.
Y/N and her unit stayed in camp, learning to work together through rigorous training and, as the general jokingly called it, team building. Unlike her last unit, Y/N was the only female soldier in the new team. Many of the boys ignored her - Y/N liked it like that, but that wasn't always the case. Carlos, a man roughly thirty years of age respectfully, was the leader of her unit and loved to beat Y/N. It started with small head slaps and shoulder bumps and moved into more violent affairs. Y/N had no choice in her situation nor was she in the position of power to do anything about it. She was done fighting. She was done living only to barely survive in the end and start the whole cycle over again. Y/N was done.
Y/N was nursing a bleeding lip, busted open by her commander, Carlos, during morning training before the Grisha arrived. Leading the Kefta-suited army was a man dressed in black who brooded from the top of his horse and saddle. General Kirigan appeared disheveled, beaten, and yet his skin was still perfect, free of any cut or bruise. Unlike the Second Army, the Grisha had Healers. Their powers allowed them to mend bones and skin back together.
Y/N stood back, allowing the crowd of Second Army soldiers to surround the Grisha. The high-ranking officers pushed through the crowd to demand answers about their sudden arrival.
"We are in search of the Cursed One," General Kirigan announced, "and we believe they're hiding in your camps."
Hushed whispering erupted through the crowd, wondering who it could be. Faces turned to look at Y/N before quickly turning around again to whisper new rumors about her.
"The Cursed One? I thought the Darkling was the one who was doing all of the cursings!" A young soldier joked, his friends laughing with him. General Kirigan shot the men a dirty look, his face darkening with anger.
"This is not a joking manner. The cursed one, if pushed enough, will be the end of you all! The end of us all!"
The commander pushed the young man back into the crowd, hushly speaking to him. Y/N didn't hear what the older man had said, but the boys shook their heads and moved to stand further into the crowd, away from the General.
"General," the elder addressed, "Why have we not heard about the Cursed One before? Obviously, they can't be a danger or even real for that matter."
"This is a real issue, commander, I assure you of that. The Cursed One's prophecy was well hidden so as to not incite fear among common men but the Grisha has been plagued with prophetic dreams. My people are being warned that the power of The Cursed One is about to rise."
"And what made you think that they're hiding in my camp?"
"The girl, the one whose last four units were slaughtered. I want her."
Y/N's heart stopped beating. Soldiers turned, looking at her with disgust and anger written upon their faces. Y/N was panicking, her hands shaking in fear. She knew her time would come one day, but now, as she stands in the crowd as if a witch on trial, she knew her day was today. Y/N didn't know what to do nor how to handle the situation and so, she did the first thing that came to mind. Run.
Dashing through the last of the crowd, Y/N ran into the camp. Dodging horses and soldiers as her feet carried her to an unknown destination. Sweat began to roll down her brow as she reached the edge of camp. Here, there were no fences, only deserted sand ranges and mountains in the far-off distance. Y/N briefly wondered if death would be the better outcome than attempting to survive in the barren lands. But she had no choice now.
As Y/N's feet barreled towards the wastelands, a sudden rush of air threw her into the air. Her body hit the dirt, tumbling until her head hit the side of a rock. Her vision blurred instantly, the world becoming hazy. Y/N rolled to her side, putting both hands flat on the ground, and tried to stand up but the world was quickly fading away. The last thing Y/N remembered were hooves galloping against the earth straight towards her.
When Y/N came to, some hours or maybe even days later, she found herself dressed in a gown and laying beneath soft blankets. Her hair had been taken out of its bun and brushed free of all its knots. Her skin was the cleanest she'd ever seen it. Not a speck of dirt was to be spotted, not even under her nails. Y/N raised herself slowly into a sitting position. The room was decorated with art and plants, and a fur rug was laid upon the marble floors. Y/N knew the only place in the world with such things would be the Little Palace.
Footsteps hurriedly approached the door of the bedroom. Y/N raised the blankets to cover herself as General Kirigan entered. A woman dressed in a white kefta followed behind him. Her hair was as bright as the flame of fire, and her skin was flawless. A kind smile dressed her pink lips.
"Hello, Y/N." The general greeted her. His face too held a soft expression.
"Are you going to kill me?" Y/N's voice trembled. This isn't the way she wanted to go. To be killed by the Grisha. If anything, Y/N would have preferred to have died in battle or saved someone, not be executed.
"No," the man spoke, his voice soft and understanding of her fears. "I want to test you. To know if you are Grisha or not."
"I was tested as a child, they told me I didn't have Grisha blood."
"As that may be, I want to double-check. I don't exactly trust the work of others." The general turned to look at the woman behind him, holding his hand out towards her. Reaching into her front pocket, the woman handed him a golden claw. Y/N recognized that as the blade the Grisha used to test the children with. If your blood was that of Grisha, the blade would allow for the magic to flow freely into the atmosphere.
General Kirigan approached her bedside, coming to stand right beside her as he peered down. His eyes were as dark as his own kefta but not with evil or hate. His eyes held understanding and compassion. Y/N didn't think this was something the man was capable of, having such dark magic in his blood.
"This will hurt, but it will allow us to confirm or deny your true destiny."
"What if..." Y/N trailed off, unsure how to phrase her question.
"What if, what?"
"What if I am The Curse One? Will you kill me then? Will I be executed?"
"Let me have your arm, and we will discuss the aftermath once I have my answers."
Y/N rolled the sleeve of her nightgown up, allowing the skin of her bicep to be free, and held her arm out to the General. Y/N turned to look away, scared to know what her fate would be. She felt the pressure of the blade touch her skin, then the pain of it ripping her skin open. Y/N felt as her blood flowed from her body and she tightly closed her eyes, waiting for the General to speak to her.
The general's grip tightened on her arm. Y/N heard the man take in a sharp breath of air. Slowly, Y/N opened her eyes, turning her head to peer at her arm. Her blood was black and veiny as it clung to her body. When Grisha was tested, their magic flowed into the air like the dust of glitter almost. Instead, her magic clung to her body, refusing to leave its host.
"What does that mean?" Y/N whispered, already knowing the answer.
"It means, my dear, that you are the Darkinlings, soul mate." The red-haired woman spoke, her voice wavered with emotion. "Fated to be together in the darkness of the shadows. You are as the prophecy foretold. You, together, are to bring the wall that divides us, down."
