wilting roses;prickling thorns (2/6)
part two of my fic for @grishaversebigbang
Materialki: @gracecreates x
chapter 2: watering the plant
If anyone was eager to plan a party, it was Genya.
Right now, she walked alongside Zoya, chattering nonstop about silk, patterns, and invitations. She worked with Ehri to plan the wedding, and they got along surprisingly well. Though Zoya couldn’t imagine anyone not befriending Genya, she has this way with people’s hearts, a way to make you open up to her even if you didn’t want to.
They finally arrived at the guest room, where Ehri has been residing. On the bed, there were yards and yards of silk—most of them red and gold. The princess herself sat in front of the mirror, her long black locks flowing behind her. Her robes, adorned with little champagne-roses flowers and gold leaf, touched the floor.
Genya called her, and she turned around, a smile on her face. Zoya admits that her beauty shines through, even in daily attire, she shone. She could already picture her in the wedding gown, the red silk with gold embroidery making her shine more, her hair up in the usual style she wore, up and decorated with flowers. Ravka would have a powerful, but also loveable queen.
Ravka would have Ehri as Queen, and she should be grateful, but something tugged at her heartstrings.
Genya had moved to the bed, now examining every piece of silk intensely. She talked about it with Ehri, the choice of the fabrics, the color, the symbolism, the design. Zoya tuned them out, moving to the side to let them debate their choices for the wedding robe and stared at them silently. Every fabric they laid out was more beautiful than the last, and the room now looked like an explosion of materials, fabrics strewn across every surface . She moved carefully between the fabrics, trying not to destroy the delicate and precious silks.
Genya and Ehri sat on the bed, talking like they’ve been friends for a long time. Zoya stands, not knowing what to do. Her recent attempts at conversations (not in this room, but attempts were made) to Ehri has been…icy. It seems like they both recognized each other as warriors, and fiercely raised their wall to protect their interest. Zoya’s Ravka; hers Shu.
She understands her. They were like-minded people.
She was about to leave the room when she heard Ehri asking questions.
“Is the King alright? I noticed he got paler when we met. Is he sick? Will he get better by spring?,” she said with a gentle tone. Zoya’s ears perked up. She too, noticed it this morning. The fact that Ehri talked about it sends rage throughout her body. For the first time since she entered the room, Zoya spoke.
“Oh, so now you are worried that he is sick and not dead?” she snapped. The hostility of her voice startled both Genya and Ehri. She saw Ehri’s smirk, and then she was back in her quiet, gentle princess voice. Zoya’s blood boiled; she did not buy this ‘gentle princess’ act a single bit. Someone who spent weeks masquerading as a soldier while planning an assassination to the King was not to be trusted.
“Oh, I am merely voicing my concerns, General. After all, he is to be my husband. Am I not allowed to be worried about his well-being?” she said in a sickly sweet way, and Zoya wanted to scream. She held it in for Genya’s sake. She had been signaling her, silently, to ruin this moment of quiet diplomacy. Genya held her tongue, and Zoya’s hands tightened onto the silk in her hands. Ehri smiled and continued in the conversation in the same, gentle tone.
“Besides, I’m not the only one concerned! Genya just mentioned that she suspects the King is ill. She thinks he’s vomiting blood. You should be worried, General. The future of the country lies in his hands and he doesn’t seem well,” she said with a sad, little tone, and Zoya snaps. The silk she had been clutching ripped apart, and she can feel hot, white anger boiling in her veins.
“Thank you for your concern for our King, Princess. I sure hope that the concerns will keep you up at night because as you mentioned, he is your future husband and you are under our protection,” she replied, then without any hesitation, walked away from the room, not caring that she stomped many valuable silks along the way. She heard Genya apologized to Ehri, but she couldn’t care less.
She made her way to her room, shut the door, and started thinking. Nikolai’s wedding to Ehri will strengthen their political alliance, but Fjerda can still ally with Kerch, and that will make certain trouble, especially with Jurda and all. She needs to plan this alongside Nikolai, especially since there was no guarantee both Ehri or the Shu would keep up with their end of the bargain.
As if the Saints couldn’t give her a break, someone delivered a letter to her from Nina. She cursed under her breath. This girl had to plan everything by herself, and not send a peep until the last minute? She and Nikolai didn’t know what the hell was going on, and things went awry. Zoya scanned over the letter, “She traded lore and myth, she wrote, fiction and legend.”
“Do you think that you’re a new Saint?” she shouted to no one in particular, as she burned the letter completely. To get rid of the letter from spies, as well as expressing her sentiment towards the plan. Nina and her improvisations of living old legends can burn in hell, she thought. Recklessly driving herself towards crazy ideas, lacking discipline…Zoya needs to have a word with her when she gets back.
But first, she needs to talk to Nikolai.
And maybe check up on whether Genya and Ehri’s suspicions were true.
Nikolai was there in the war room, back hunched towards the map of Ravka. His fingers traced the outline of the border, the campaign now still standing despite many deserters. Nikolai ponders at this. Why would they still be standing at the border, but show no sign of attack? Surely, there weren’t that many deserters that the campaign had lost all of their soldiers?
His train of thought was interrupted by Zoya’s presence. His general, like always, wore a mask of indifference. She sat in front of him, her eyes trailing his fingers tracing the map. “It can’t all be Nina’s right?” he asked, mind reeling over the fact.
Zoya rolled her eyes. Once again, Nina had retracted from the original plan and somehow made deserters out of many Fjerdan soldiers. I traded myth and lore, fiction, and legend, she had said in her latest letter. Nina made people desert by making little ‘miracles’, Zoya explained to Nikolai, basing them on local myths, lore, and fiction. Quite a few people deserted, believing what they were doing a contrast to their belief. The letter made Zoya’s anger burn and Nikolai suppressed his mirth. This was certainly not going according to plan, he thought. But a little improvisation I did not mind.
But now, said improvisation had left them confused for a simple reason: they didn’t read the script.
“I doubt Nina and her stories had that much power to inspire a coup d’etatZoya mused. She too was confused by this sudden stop of a force. It was a warning, a gun held to Ravka’s head. Now, how could they stop this gun from firing through the country’s heart? ?
“Are the Kerch involved by any means?” Nikolai asked. Zoya had received reports that there was an unusual meeting at someone of the merchant council’s home. A whisper traded between parties and dances. Mailing disguised as a contract. The Kerch were involved, as usual when there was gold on the table. And as bankrupted as Ravka was, the promise of the Lanstov’s gold never looked more tempting.
“They are playing it safe and secret, as usual,” Zoya answered. Nikolai traced the map again, head deep into thought. As they sat together, what Ehri said to Zoya went into her mind. Genya just mentioned that she suspects the King is ill. She thinks he’s vomiting blood. You should be worried, General. The future of the country lies in his hands and he doesn’t seem well. Yesterday Nikolai dismissed it as nothing, blaming the harsh winter. Zoya doubts someone who has survived the journey around Ravka, and to another realm, would be affected by a little snow.
As if Nikolai was reading her thoughts, , he coughed heavily; his hands started reaching for a cup of tea between them. Zoya was about to go to her usual comment, the easy sarcastic, spiteful banter, when she noticed something red sprouting out of his mouth. It certainly looked like blood. Was Ehri right? Was he sick as she feared? He finished his tea but coughed more heavily this time, and Zoya got out of her seat to look at his condition.
On his palm, there was something red and scattered. Zoya immediately knew it was not blood, but blood would have been easier to believe than this. When he opened his palm, it was not blood that Zoya saw.
Nikolai was coughing up rose petals.
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