A/n: It's so weird writing for Kaz when I haven't written for him in forever, it's nice to go back to my roots lmao.
Request: Kaz Brekker x reader w/ chronic pain? Bonus points if reader was in the menagerie at a young age. I like the whump and comfort, if you couldn't tell
*there's like a paragraph where someone is reading from a book, it's legit just off of the grishaverse wiki I have it linked for copyright*
Warnings: unintentional self harm, mentions of sexual abuse and physical abuse, panic attacks/dissociation, also ooc kaz
Word count: 2639
Weakness is not tolerated in Ketterdam. Some who live outside Kerch believe that the country as a whole is a breeding ground for the weak, with their merchants, and their lack of monarchy. People from Ravka scoff at the businessmen, and people from Frejda sneer at the lack of respect towards authority. They just don’t understand that all of Kerch is run by kings in suits, that the rich that pretend to have the interests of the rest in mind are much more dangerous. They don’t realise that Ketterdam, that all of Kerch is where the weak go with skin blackened from the world to replace it with armor.
Your own armor is one of unreadable expressions, and to the outside a body that doesn’t respond to pain. In a sense it’s true, when you fight you fight until you drop because well, it’s hard to separate the pain when you’re always in pain.
Some days it’s better, some days you can sit at that window in Kaz’s room next to Inej and pretend to look at anything other than at said man. Inej can nudge your arm and it doesn’t increase your suffering, you can scale the buildings together and you feel free.
On the good days you can joke around with Jesper and Nina without gritting your teeth, on the good days you link your arms with the merchling’s and take him shopping, or you’ll playfully spar with the Druskelle to sharpen both your skills. The best part? None of it feels suffocating, your organs aren’t wound up tightly together, wondering if this will be your last day as if the mere agony you feel could actually wipe you from the face of the earth.
Today is not one of those days. Today you wake from a nightmare, your skin crawling with disgust and it literally pulses under your touch. You sigh, your head falling back to your bed with a wince. You haven’t had such a bad nightmare in a while, and they always heightened the pain.
Still, you rip your body part from the bed, slowly, piece by piece like peeling skin off an orange while minding the juice that could get into your eyes. Your bones ache, and you just feel weighed down, it reminds you of a not so distant past you would rather forget. Even if you want to, the remembrance is permanently painted into your state of self. You’ll never get rid of the memories of the constant reminders.
You stare into the mirror, and carefully carve your armor into your face. Your pained expression, butchered into one of neutral indifference. There’s strength in the disregard, one that you’ve been forced to master in order to live in Ketterdam. The city does not appreciate weakness, not when you’ve lived in it for so long. It’ll lend you strength, but you have to remember that you’ll always be in debt to it.
Mentally, you go through everything that you have to do today, usually you don’t fight on heists. Kaz only brings you out when you’re truly needed, but he always has you go over the plans for the next heist for hours on end. You asked him once why he didn’t let anyone else go over his plans, why he even let you go over them in the first place. He never used to let anyone in on his plans, Inej has told you as much. Brekker never answered you, he just laughed and said that you and him were similar in ways others could never understand. Unfortunately, you didn’t seem to understand either because Kaz gave you more than just fucking heist plans to go over, but he gave you the job of rounding everyone up for it.
First you go to Wylan, usually he’s the easiest to find, it’s nothing against him he’s just predictable. He’s not like Inej, who makes you want to pull your hair out, or Jesper who could be gambling his life away, or on a spree. Although Matthias and Nina are generally found together, they could be doing literally anything, and sometimes you want to splash some of Wylan’s chemicals into your eyes from what you find them doing.
Wylan is easy, because as predicted he’s in his lab gearing up for the upcoming heist. Inside, you thank him for the small mercy of finding him always being so straightforward. On the outside though, your face is ever neutral, despite what it may seem, you actually do like the merchling. You just have a hard time interacting with him because he’s so life-like. Honestly, he’s not very good at hiding his emotions, at least not to you, and having someone be so open was just so foreign.
You don’t bother with any of the usual pleasantries, “Kaz wants us in his office, do you know where-”
“I’ll find Jesper, and Nina and Matthias are out having waffles, I can get them for you too.”
Try as you might, the tension leaves your body whether you wanted it to or not. You don’t give much in response, other than a quick nod in thanks, before you’re off. There’s never time to waste when finding Inej. Wylan knows that having the job of finding the Wraith, is like finding a needle in a haystack. It always helps when someone else can get the others, and you can focus on the one who makes you want to bash your head in.
You investigate all the places you’ve found her before, her room, the rooftops, the docks. Eventually, you’re even double checking Kaz’s office making sure she isn’t sitting at the window waiting for your presence by her side. Dread starts to seep into your skin, but with nowhere else to look, you head over to the Menagerie.
The closer you get the more shivers wreck your form, being close to that prison always made it worse. You’ve already been having a bad day, but as you come face to face with the building, your body physically feels as if it’s being weighed down. Your joints creek with every step, while your eyes remain downcast.
Sometimes, Inej comes here to scout out new members for the Dregs. Her observations will eventually find you and Kaz, and from there you’ll discuss the best candidates. You’re too much of a coward yourself to go to the Menagerie, it brings back memories you’d rather forget.
You stick to the shadows, knowing that the Wraith wouldn’t be caught dead in the light, not here. The further you travel in, the more the scent hits you. Suffocating perfumes, the fumes of torment and hopelessness. It incases you, while the weight you carry increases by a tenthfold. In an act of desperation, your hands shoot up to your throat, just to try and remind yourself that the shackles don’t exist anymore.
This becomes your mistake.
Although you find no metal underneath your fingertips, the fact that there was something restraining your neck pulls you into a hysteria you’ve not felt in ages. Its eyes grin down at you, bloated and elated to have you in its grasp again.
A gasp leaves your mouth, as a searing hot pain shatters your carefully crafted mask. The betrayal of your own skin hits you like a knife to the back, as it lifts away to reveal your expression not to be neutral, but instead one of pure panic.
What other choice do you have left, other than to run? You’ve been running your whole life, from men, from monsters, from reality itself. Yet, as you sprint, your very being screams in agony. You can’t run from that, not from the constant reminder that the agony you feel every day, even on the better days is because of that wretched place. The building where the souls of children go to die, where your own is trapped. Stuck under the thumb of Tante Heleen, causing you everlasting suffering. Reminding you that you’ve always been a fraud, too weak to deal with the past, and in turn it causes your agony.
You don’t know where you’ve managed to reach but your instincts tell you it’s safe. While you’re aware that nowhere is truly safe in the barrel, you tuck yourself in a corner regardless. This time you’re willing to take a chance that you’ll be alright. Just as long as no one can reach you.
Anxiety comes to greet you though, because you’d been weak. You unraveled in front of Ketterdam herself, now she was going to tear you apart. Or maybe she would put you in chains again. At the thought, you scratch at your neck, your wrists, anywhere, where it already hurts to reinstate to yourself that the shackles aren’t there.
As time moves onwards, you tire yourself out, and resign yourself to this uncomfortable position you’ve put yourself in. Closing your eyes, you block out the rest of the world, and just try to breathe.
⇜⧫✹⧫⇝
“Ravkan philosophy uses the terms odinakovost and etovost to further explain this phenomenon.” A beautiful rasp penetrates your ears as you open your eyes, finding yourself sitting in Kaz’s office. Slowly you turn your head and find the man himself, in his chair reading aloud a book. “Odinakovost refers to the essence that all things share, while etovost refers to what makes a thing unique, and unlike anything else.”
You remember that book, you’ve read it before, when you were trying to find a way to help Jesper with his powers. The bastard’s eyes flick over to you, and with a little nod he finishes the paragraph, “Grisha must understand both in order to manipulate matter, but it is their command of etovost in particular that sets Grisha apart from non-Grisha.”
He snaps the book shut, the noise fully awakens your senses and your mind as you realise the predicament that you’ve gotten yourself into. You’d have to give a pretty good excuse as to what led to all of this or you’ll certainly be fired. It’s not like you could tell him the truth, Kaz Brekker would laugh in your face.
Although maybe he out of all people could understand, afterall he had said it himself that you were similar in ways others could never understand. Yet the truth isn’t what will fall from your lips, you’re too much of a coward, always running away from your problems.
“I’m sorry,” you spit the words out like they’re poison. “Someone attacked me.”
It’s a lame excuse at best, and Kaz seems to know this too as he rolls his eyes, “you have blood all over yourself and your hands.”
“Yes?”
“You don’t lose fights, definitely not by some random stranger.”
You breathe out harshly as your nails dig into your wrists once again, “they caught me off guard.”
“Inej told me you went to the Menagerie to find her.”
You curse your friend, as your nails dig further into your skin, but all they do is remind you of the lingering pain. At least it’s eased up a bit with some rest, not that being curled into a ball for long enough to let the blood covering you dry will be a big help either.
Kaz walks around his desk, his cane hitting the ground and making that satisfying ‘clunk’ noise every time it hits the ground. Instead of laughing you out of his office, or ripping you a new one, he holds out a hand.
Hesitantly, you reach up and grab onto his gloved hand, hoisting yourself off the floor of his office. You have to physically restrain yourself from groaning, crouching down on the floor really wasn’t a good idea.
Kaz doesn’t let your hand escape from his, rather he laces your fingers together and pulls you into his bathroom. He wets a cloth and hands it over to you. Obviously, it’s to clean up the blood that’s frankly all over you, but he doesn’t let your other hand go, it’s not exactly going to be easy to clean yourself up with one hand.
“Are you going to give me my hand back?”
He raises an eyebrow, and squeezes your hand harder.
Okay, guess not then.
With a sigh, and without another question, you begin to clean yourself off as much as you can. It’s not as hard as you thought it would be, but your body screams in protest. You must let your discomfort show on your face, because Kaz snatches the cloth from your hand and begins to clean you off himself.
Your breath catches in your throat, as he gently drags the rag across your skin. He doesn’t use too much force, and you find yourself relaxing into the wall behind you, as Kaz's gloved hand in yours keeps you tethered to the world around you.
“You should have told me that it was getting bad again.”
The peaceful silence is broken, and you find yourself frowning, “what was?”
“Your chronic pain.”
“My what?”
Kaz pauses for a brief moment, before he returns to cleaning you off, although his eyes seemed to be more focused on your own than the task at hand.
“The pain that stays with you, I assume it’s from an old injury, or injuries that heal wrong, like my leg. I thought you knew this.”
Your mind is reeling, apparently, there was a name for what you were feeling, and you weren’t just weak for having persisting pain from your time at the Menagerie.
“Well, I’m sorry that the Menagerie doesn’t supply children with the best education,” you hiss out as he goes to clean your wrists, as some of the wounds there are a bit more fresh than the others. “I didn’t suffer any major injuries though.” Nothing that couldn’t heal at least, you always needed to be fresh for clients.
“When I first met you, she had you in chains,” Kaz’s voice comes out uncharacterically soft. “How long did you have them on?”
“Ever since I arrived there,” you whisper.
The words are left there, as Kaz goes silent once again, to finish up, before he drags you out and pulls you into his bedroom. With a yelp, you’re pulled to the bed, sitting side beside the bastard of the barrel, the only thing separating the two of you, is your joined hands. This is the closest you’ve allowed yourself to get to Kaz. Subconsciously, you know he’s safe, but you’ve been consciously keeping a distance between the two of you, not wanting to fall into a trap many others before you have. Or worse, get your heart broken.
“Tell me when you’re having a bad day,” his voice rings across the room. “I need you here.”
As he speaks, your heart stops. He could’ve easily said that he needed you for the dregs, for the crows, for anything but he didn’t. Kaz Brekker doesn’t do anything without a reason, you’re certain of that. He’s making his intentions clear, perhaps even his own feelings if you wanted to be brave.
Although, did you even have to be brave in a situation like this? The moment he got your hand in his own he hasn’t let you go, not that you want him to though, but you’re aware Kaz doesn’t like to touch people. This goes beyond friendship, in a way even you can’t deny.
“If we’re going to do this, it can’t be one way, we need to be a team. You need to tell me when your leg is bothering you. I can’t- I need you here, by my side.” You squeeze his hand and turn your head to face him.
“You make it all bearable.”
He hums, and brings your hand up and lays a fleeting kiss on it before letting it go.
Pairing: The Darkling x Heartrender!You || The Darkling x HeartrenderOC!Reader
Summary: As you're deemed too dangerous and unstable to train with the others, you are assigned special lessons with Bahgra. The situation turns catastrophic but Kirigan is here to save you from yourself.
Words: 7k
TW: reference to prostitution and SA, graphic depiction of violence, eroticism, pinning, shadow play, smut, hurt/comfort
Note: I didn’t proof read it but I’ll do it later. Also next chapter won’t be that long aha. Also: HAPPY NEW YEAR.
Part V - Beneath His Watchful Eyes
Previous || Masterlist || Next
The more days flew by, the more it came off as an evidence for everyone but yourself: now that you had learnt the basic abilities of your Heartrender nature, continuing your training with the other Grisha wouldn’t get you anywhere. The morning sunlight filtered through the gauzy and thick curtains of your bedroom, painting the luxurious walls in soft golden hues.
Dressed in white as always — for you still refused to wear your red kefta —, you were lacing up your boots, letting your thoughts lose themselves in a swirling mix of exhaustion and unease that had become your constant companion in the Little Palace. Lately, the excruciating anxiety you usually felt prior to going downstairs with the others had diminished and this surprising phenomenon was partly due to Zoya’s sudden quietness whenever you were around. Since the incident of the dinner hall during which you had ended up covered in pig’s blood and defended by General Kirigan, the egocentric Squaller seemed to tolerate you. Or, at the very least, to bite her tongue hard enough not to taunt you anymore in the vilest way possible like she used to do. Following this event, a myriad of questions had lingered in your restless mind: was Kirigan’s intervention the only reason why Zoya left you alone? Why did the General decide to protect you from her petty behavior while you were nothing but a new and clumsy Grisha among a hundred of highly trained and skilled soldiers? And, most importantly, why did your usually numbed emotions tend to surge at once whenever he was nearby, as if he was able to trigger something buried deep within you?
A knock on the door pulled you back to reality.
“Come in,” You called with a neutral tone, standing as Genya Safin entered the room.
The Tailor was radiant as always, her round face reminding you of a delicate porcelain doll while her russet hair caught the light in a way that seemed almost magical. Even though you didn’t exchange much with her, she has been one of the scarce few who showed a bit of kindness toward you. Not directly, but through the form of timid smiles and empathic glances. Masking your natural coldness, you offered her a welcoming grin but immediately noticed that her bright smile was tempered by a hint of apprehension. Like a tamer getting into a tiger’s cage. A White Tigress, Tante Heleen’s shrilling voice corrected in your skull.
“Good morning,” Genya greeted, her voice a warm lilt that contrasted with the frozen desert of your iris, “The General has instructed you to begin the second step of your training today.”
You frowned at such news, your hands stilling and your shoulders tensing, “Training? With whom?” You dared ask, already dreading the idea of getting paired with someone else that Ivan or Fedyor.
“Baghra,” Genya replied with a careful tone, stepping closer but slowly for she knew how sensitive the instruction she had just delivered was. The name felt like a guillotine blade on a prisoner’s neck.
“Baghra?!” You repeated, your confusion deepening and your seraphic traits turning into the deadliest ice again. Obviously you had overheard whispers of the old woman’s brutal methods and reclusive nature. From what you knew, she didn’t bother training young Grisha but rather preserved her knowledge for exceptionally gifted creatures. An attention you weren’t sure to deserve. Nor want. “Fantastic,” You couldn’t help the sarcastic venom that escaped your plump lips.
Genya only nodded before walking toward the window, visibly uncomfortable. “Her hut is at the edge of the grounds. I’ll show you the way. Come with —
“Why her?” You cut her off, your voice edged with a sharp frustration, “Why not train with the others as is the case since my arrival here?” Getting familiar with public training sessions had already been a gargantuan task, so the idea of starting from scratch again left a bitter taste on your tongue.
Genya seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering away for a moment to regain composure before her focus shifted back to you, “The General has his reasons,” she said vaguely, though her speech lacked conviction and rather suggested that she knew more than she let on.
You felt a sudden pang of isolation tighten in your chest. That was unfair. After all, you had never asked for a special treatment. Quite the contrary, you had tried your best to meddle with the crowd even though it was vain. Even here, surrounded by Grisha who should have been your peers, you were set apart — an anomaly, an outlier. An abomination, “Fine,” You said curtly, grabbing your fur coat a bit more bluntly than expected, which made Genya flinch a little.
The Tailor beauty offered you an encouraging smile before leading you out of the palace. Your steps crunched over the frosted ground as you walked away from the imposing building. The towering structure of the Little Palace looked behind the two of you, like an ancient creature made of stone and adornments. With a last sympathetic grin, Genya pointed you the way to Baghra and retreated, leaving you to face whatever awaited you inside.
“Fuck me,” You mumbled under your breath, pausing at the threshold and gathering your composure, before stepping through the heavy wooden door.
She couldn’t be as bad as they said she was, right?
The small, dimly lit room carried a faint scent of wood smoke and incense. Its walls were lined with ancient carvings of saints and symbols that told the stories of another era. As your pale iris got used to the darkness, you stood in the center of the place with your arms crossed all the while studying the stern old woman who was before you. She hasn’t greeted you or said a single word. Instead, Baghra’s eyes seemed to pierce through you like a free and wise hawk appraising a caged animal.
“So, they think you are powerful,” The old harpy began, her voice a sharp blade in the still, almost suffocating air, “But power without control is not better than an open flame in a forest. I wonder what you are, little one. The wildfire or the restorative water?”
You narrowed your eyes, feeling the sting of the comment and the mocking tone that seeped through her every word. Control. You had heard it over and over, and, frankly, the constant reminders of it were starting to get on your nerves, “I never claimed to have control. Isn’t that why I’m here? To learn control from you, since it seems that no one has managed to do so? Or at least that’s what General Kirigan keeps telling me.”
Baghra scoffed, surprised by your boldness and your insolent nature, “Is that what Aleksander told you?”
So, his name is Aleksander, you thought and, somehow, it warmed your heart a little to know what he was called. Maybe because it made him more human.
“Control is only a part of it. What you need for the time being is understanding.” Finally she stepped closer, her cane tapping against the floor and as she came near, you had the familiar sensation of living shadows surrounding you, “What I want to know is what exactly are you capable of, girl? Not just the obvious — what else lies beneath those trembling hands of yours?”
Silence fell on the room.
“Speak!” She urged, tapping her cane more violently on the ground. The echo ripped through the air and made you jump slightly despite not being a scaredy cat in nature. The old hag was, indeed, not very sympathetic.
“Well,” You hesitated a little, your gaze drifting from her to the cane as if you were getting ready to dodge a potential blow from the stern harpy, “I can do what most Heartrenders can,” Your pace was slow for you were carefully choosing your words, “Stop hearts, slow breathing, crush lungs, induce pain, emotion-related changes…” The more you talked, the more your voice dropped to an unsure whisper, “During training I — ”
“I already know all of these. It’s not what I demanded. I want you to clearly explain what lies behind the rumors. What kind of miracles did you perform to get such a reputation?”
A Saint or a Monster.
A blessing or a curse.
Your shoulders slouched down at the inevitable: you had no choice but to talk about what happened during the whole year you were on the run and mention the incidents that unfolded, “I can also heal. Not only wounds but diseases. I’ve cured… Things that should have been fatal. Triggered some too..”
Baghra frowned, her sharp predatory eyes riveted on you, but she remained silent, waiting for more.
“There was this town who had welcomed me for a few days. A little girl would always come and share the little food she had with me. Ana was the name. She told me that she, as well as a small portion of the town, were plagued by a deadly, incurable disease. I just… “ You paused, pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to remember the events in detail, “I don’t know how I did it but I cured her. I cured them all. It’s not that I did it consciously you know? It was as if… As if my instincts pushed me to do so and it happened that something inside of me knew exactly what to do. I left the day after because their reactions made me uncomfortable: they had started to bow in front of me and bring me offerings.”
“And then?” Baghra urged. Now her eyes gleamed with a curiosity she didn’t know she possessed anymore.
You continued, your voice growing quieter. Darker. “And then I left, encountered hunters and all went black. When I woke up, five mangled men were lying discarded on the frozen ground, broken in such a grotesque way that my stomach twisted. I remembered two of them throwing up and crying bright red blood. As for the three others… There was something else.” An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the memory, the metallic smell of twisted and exposed flesh coming back to you as if someone was gutted alive right here, right now, “They moved against their will, like puppets. They turned — No, I think I’ve made them turn against each other. I was so enraged you see but…” You swallowed hard.
Baghra’s cane came to slam against the ground again, the sound reverberating like a gunshot, “Control of another’s body and mind,” she muttered, fascinated. “Dangerous. Do you know what kind of devastation you could cause with that power? If you lose control for even a moment… Or if it fell in the wrong hands.”
“I know,” You interrupted, faking annoyance while your voice clearly shook, “That’s why I’m afraid of it. Which is even more frustrating considering that I’ve never been particularly afraid of something.” And somehow, that detail, which might seem insignificant to most, bothered you more than you wished to admit. Daring a quick glance at the grey-haired and eagle-eyed Grisha, you noticed how she studied you for a long moment, her traits still holding authority and sternness despite the brief glow of empathy. It lasted just a fraction, but it was enough to conclude that she wasn’t the heartless bitch people talked about.
“Fear can keep you sharp, but too much of it will paralyze you.” She finally said, her words wrapped in an unexpected sense of understanding. “Show me.”
“I beg your pardon?” You almost choked at her firm order. For a moment, you thought she was joking or at least taunting you since humor didn’t seem to be part of her. Yet, Baghra replied to your surprise with a raised eyebrow, full of judgment.
“Show me what you’re afraid of.” As her sharp command broke the silence, panic surged immediately through your being like a destructive tidal wave. Your chest tightened at the idea, each breath shallow and uneven. Not even summoned by a client at the Menagerie did you feel the weight of such anxiety.
You frowned, trying your best to hide your turmoil and keep up with appearances but your voice betrayed you, “On what?” You dare ask, “A chair? You, maybe?” The air around her felt oppressive, pressing against your pale skin.
Baghra, insensitive to your sarcasm, turned toward the corner of the room where a young Etherealki you’d already noticed during training stepped out of the shadow timidly. How long had she been standing there? The woman’s wide eyes darted nervously between you and the old witch, unsure. “Tanya has volunteered,” Baghra’s statement sounded so deadly cold that you felt like you had just heard yourself talk. “She knows the risks.”
Boom. Boom.
Your heart raced and sweat beaded at your temples, dampening a few ivory strands of your long mane. To be fair, you weren't just afraid of failing; it was the possibility of losing control and becoming the mass-murderous monster you had already let out a few times that you feared most.
“I— I just… can’t.” Words managed to reach your lips.
The Etherealki hesitated, not quite reassured by your reaction, then stepped forward, her hands nervously playing with the hem of her blue kefta as she spoke. “I-I’m ready,” she stammered, though her voice betrayed her fear, “Go ahead.”
You felt your whole chest tighten a second time, as though your ribcage was slowly but surely crushing your organs, reducing them to a pulp at the simple thought of what you were asked to do. It wasn’t much about empathy, on which you had always run low, but more about your refusal to face the reflection in your mirror in case she died, “Are you sure?” You breathed.
Tanya nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Baghra’s voice cut through the tension. “Control her movement. Nothing else.” She ordered as though it was the easiest thing to do.
A shaky exhale left your mouth. Carefully, you stepped forward, the cold hum of your power thrumming through your veins. With unsure movements, you raised your hands and focused on summoning your abilities that were impatiently waiting beneath your skin. Slowly, Tanya’s arm began to rise, her movements jerky and unnatural.
It worked. And the Etheralki wasn’t choking on her own blood nor bashing her own head against the nearest wall so far. That was a win. The taste of success didn’t last long though.
“Relax,” Baghra barked, suddenly hitting your fingers with her cane. The wooden stick struck your knuckles with a sharp crack, sending a bolt of pain through your hand that radiates up your arms.
“Aouch! Are you crazy?!” You hissed, fingers instinctively recoiling and the control you held over Tanya loosening. Yet, you forced yourself to stay still. The sting burned like a biting reminder that the old harpy wouldn’t hesitate to hit you again. Relentless methods… Now you understood.
“Your grip is too tight. Her arms were starting to twist in her back.”
Insults would have certainly flown from your pretty mouth hadn’t you been too focused on not hurting the young Etheralki. Instead, you adjusted the pressure and Tanya’s movements became smoother, more fluid, as you guided her to lift one arm, then the other, until they wrapped around her own throat.
A thin trickle of blood ran from one of your nostrils as you maintained the connection and narrowed your focus on the girl’s quickening heartbeats, which resounded in your skull.
Baghra stepped closer, watching with a mix of curiosity and alert when she noticed Tanya’s finger digging into her own flesh, “Good. Now release her.” She intervened because she didn't want to take the risk of seeing you force the young girl to strangle herself.
You exhaled loudly, dropped your hands, and watched the poor Etheralki stumble back. Her palms patted her throat as she gasped for air.
“I’m sorry,” You blurted, stepping toward her.
Tanya shook her head, “it’s fine,” she said, panting, “I’m fine.” To be fair, you couldn’t tell if she was trying to be genuinely kind or if her immediate reply was only motivated by the sheer will to stop you from stepping too close. The way she rapidly grabbed her chapka and left the hut when allowed to do so hinted at the second option. You stared at the entrance from which she departed, absentmindedly wiping the blood from your nose with the back of your hand.
“Heaven.” Baghra’s voice snatched you from your thoughts. Turning around, you saw her approaching you as carefully as if she was coaxing a wild beast, though her expression remained unfathomable, “You’re more than a Heartrender, indeed. I suspected it the moment I saw you but now it’s undeniable.” Her sentence floated in the air for a few seconds, the anticipation of what she would say next adding to the build-up tension, “Your power doesn’t just affect the body — it is the very essence of a person you can break and control.”
You turned to ice again despite how uneasy her statement made you feel, “Is that… Bad?”
Baghra sucked on her teeth before replying, “Not bad per se. But dangerous. You really need to master it quickly, little girl. And by it, I’m not only referring to your little science but also to the rage you’ve been keeping buried for so long. For some reason, you seem to end up losing control and hurting people whenever you use your abilities too intensely. Also, there’s something else…”
“What?” You growled. As if today’s revelation and experiments hadn’t racked your nerves enough, you thought.
An odd silence settled between the two of you, heavy and electric. The old witch’s dark eyes roved over your slim silhouette with a scrutiny that sought to strip away your very skin and reach the fibers of who you were. The elder woman rested her hands on her cane, unmoving, she clung to it as if bracing against a revelation she wasn’t yet ready to voice. You shifted uncomfortably under her stare, but Baghra’s focus didn’t waver.
There was something eerily familiar about you — an echo, a flicker of something she had thought long buried in the recesses of her memory. Back from the time the Fold was created. It laid in the tilt of your chin, the defiance in your gaze paired with that undercurrent of pain… A ghost of another time.
“Interesting,” Baghra muttered to herself, barely loud enough for you to hear. There was no warmth in her tone, only a thread of unease woven through the words. She feared that saying what she thought aloud would summon old wounds to life. Whatever it was — whatever connection the old woman could feel pulsing faintly like a forgotten heartbeat — remained unspoken. In all her wisdom, Baghra knew better than to meddle in such mysteries before their time.
Some destinies were inescapable. She concluded grimly.
“Never mind,” she said finally, turning away. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Now you are requested to leave.”
Harsh and inconsiderate, but you still obliged and, to be fair, you were more than happy to exit her place.
As you left the room, the harpy remained behind, her thoughts swirling like a howling hurricane. General Kirigan… When you had mentioned Aleksander earlier, it had been as if your soul already knew him.
Baghra gritted her teeth and at this very moment, never had she hoped so dearly for her predictions to be wrong.
You had waited impatiently for the moment you could curl up under the soft blanket of your bed after a warm bath and yet, you soon regretted daylight. Rolling from one side to another you had fought against insomnia for hours. It didn't help that the temperature of your room was high, rendering every attempt to relax properly fruitless.
Sleep finally condescended to visit you after you had removed all your clothes and sunk back into the comfortable freshness of the mattress. A few hours later, amid the night when the darkness was the thickest, you found yourself caught in that strange liminal space between sleep and wakefulness.
The sensation was indescribable — your body might have been heavy with exhaustion but your restless mind still refused to let it fully go. Besides, the silence around you grew unnerving rather than comforting. The eerie calm of the Little Palace seemed to press in on you, to the extent you almost wished you could hear the sound of Tante Heleen’s quill scribbling on paper or even the clicking of the golden chain at your neck whenever you moved. But all you were met with was a deafening emptiness.
As you lay there, trapped in such a strange state, the faintest stir of air brushed across your frozen flesh, resulting in a shiver running down your spine.
Your foggy mind was trying to rationalize and blame it on the strong wind outside but the truth was your window was closed and the heavy, thick curtains pulled in front of it. Had the wind been responsible, the curtain would have moved.
Soon after, you felt the thin bed sheet that covered you gently sliding off your body, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. What was that? Your breath hitched in surprise at the unexpected freshness. Shivering again, you opened your heavy eyelids, your arctic blue eyes scanning the odd shadows. Strangely, they seemed to thicken and gather at every corner of the room, growing bigger as you peered at them.
And from the shadows came the irresistible pull.
The sudden sensation crept over you, seeping into your consciousness. A familiar call that sent adrenaline pumping through your veins and turned your pulse into a wild drumbeat in your ears. The feeling didn’t come from a sight or a sound strictly speaking, but rather from something far more primal and instinctive. The frozen meadows of your crystal iris darted around the bedroom again but there was nothing. So why did the sensation remain, coiling in your chest and whispering that you were not alone? That you were watched?
The tendrils of shadow you were surveilling suddenly jumped from the corner with deliberate intent, crawling lazily but dangerously close like a pool of spilled ink. Once they reached the bed, they circled it and rose, devouring each light source. The moon, the candles, the twilight hue... Everything disappeared, guzzled by them until all remained was a pitch-black darkness that kept you prisoner.
If you had managed to remain rather quiet until then, panic definitely invaded you when an odd chill brushed your arm. You stopped breathing: it hadn't felt like the winter air but softer, like a touch. “F—Fuck” You squealed a little as the whisper of a second movement crossed your cheek, just like the graze of invisible fingertips.
It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
Then it kept going, wandering all over you one place after the other and leaving you quaking each time. The darkness touched you again and again, trailing down your spine, and brushing the curve of your collarbone. What had started like a grazing sensation soon turned into the actual caresses of a ghost lover. As though they were the extension of his own hands.
The softest and most caring caresses you had ever experienced.
Your eyes fluttered close when the tendrils of shadow resolved themselves to wander all over your almost petrified body in a languid, intimate exploration. Gripping, electric, your being reacted vividly to them — feeling your nipples hardening, you couldn’t help but instinctively arch toward the phantom touches as if drawn by a force you couldn’t resist. The oddness of the whole experience vanished for an instant as you relished in their gentleness and the perfect knowledge of the most sensitive parts of you they seemed to have.
Heat pooled in your stomach and between your legs for the shadows danced across you, grabbing you by the hips to explore your inner thighs and graze the pearly petals of your already wet slit.
“Al— Aleksander…”
You moaned without realizing it. The name had left your mouth instinctively all the while you threw your head back. Caught in a swirl of pleasure and intimacy, you gave yourself to the darkness and parted your legs. A darkness that felt like the tip of a warm tongue coming to taste your intoxicating and hands cuddling every inch of your gleaming-with-sweat body.
“Fuck!” You groaned again as an electrifying wave of pleasure crashed against you like waves on the shore.
Everything was so real, so sensual, you couldn't distinguish dream from reality. A fire of arousal ignited in your entire being, fueled by lust. More... Your mind begged your hands brutally closing around the bedsheets and trapping the fabric in your small fists.
Heaven.
Your name seemed to echo faintly in the silence in reply, not truly spoken but rather felt.
No, it was definitely fucking real.
Alarmed by such an unbelievable realization, you came back to your sense and fought the pleasurable daze that enveloped you until you were able to turn toward the voice to search for its owner. A voice you had recognized and couldn't mistake for anyone else's. Still, nothing. Just plain blackness. The shadows tightened their embrace around you even more greedily when you moved though, as if afraid you would try to leave them. They curled around your legs and hips in a lover’s caresses, gentle yet incredibly possessive.
Stay.
And all of a sudden it wasn’t just the shadows; it was him. You felt a hand — warm and strong — cradle your face and tilt your head on the side to free the way to your neck. Overwhelmed, you squirmed a little but couldn’t fight the invisible force that was keeping you pinned to the mattress rather firmly.
Stay with me.
You could almost feel his soft lips against your ear, could almost hear his breath as he murmured words you barely comprehend but that made your heart race faster anyhow.
“Come to me…” It wasn't just a feeling anymore, it was a sound, a murmur that echoed in the void. “I’ve been waiting for you all my life…” Those were the exact same words you had heard when the Drüskelle had captured you, seconds before the General came to rescue you.
And then the dream shattered, dissipating as quickly as it had appeared.
The intensity of the moment and the brutality with which everything had come to a stop left you awake, gasping, and drenched in sweat. How long did it last? You couldn’t tell, but when you reopened your eyes, the shy morning sun was bathing your bedroom in a soft, reassuring light.
“What the hell…” You panted, dragging your quaking body to the edge of the bed before pulling the white blanket and wrapping it around you. What the hell was wrong with you? Dizzy and shivering, you let out a shaky sigh and buried your burning face in your cold hands. Was it real? Was it a wet dream? Was your mind sick? Was it that damn place that was driving you crazy?
A second sigh resounded in the silence of your room.
Fortunately, the Black General was rather busy lately so you wouldn’t have to suffer fleeting but very embarrassing encounters. At least you hoped so for you weren’t sure to be able to look at him right in the eyes after the obscene dream you just had.
With your pulse still racing, you tried to forget that unsettling experience, shoving it in the back of your mind to focus on the work awaiting you today, even though the tingling sensation from the phantom touches still haunted your skin.
Because no matter how much you ignored it, how much you pushed the inevitable, Aleksander had already made his way through the very fabric of your soul.
If you had to pinpoint your best quality, it would be your ability to adapt to changes quite rapidly. That was probably why you had jumped in this new training routine without complaining too much once you had realized that you had managed to survive the first lesson with Bahgra. While insufferable, the old hag indeed taught you something useful.
Nevertheless, today’s training session had been particularly grueling. You let out a low growl of pain and wiped the blood that was dripping from your nose with the back of your trembling hand, the electric and wild sensation of power rattling against every nerve of your body. While some time had passed since your disturbing and erotic dream, your thoughts kept coming back to it and it made containing your powers ever more difficult.
“Concentrate.” Baghra’s voice sounded as pleasantly as nails scratching a black board. The old woman had been drilling you relentlessly to push you to control it, but the power within you had visibly a mind of its own.
Standing across from Tanya, the brave volunteer who returned to the hut and accepted to be your partner against all expectations, you could feel her unease radiating off her. While you understood that no one in her situation would have played it cool, she did seem particularly tense today. Etheralki's whole being was shivering, her wide eyes wide with apprehension.Could she possibly sense your own fatigue and struggles?
“Control it. Don’t let it control you.”
You nodded briefly but it didn’t keep you from mumbling a few insults under your beard before closing your eyes for a brief moment in order to relax. However, the fatigue that had been building up for the past months was taking a toll on you. The control, the lessons, the loneliness, the General’s growing effects on you… It was getting too much, even for you.
You know, one day you’re gonna crack if you keep sweeping everything that troubles you under the rug. One does not simply ignore what hurts. Fedyor once told you.
Pushing your limits a bit too far, a flood of emotions crashed against you and rendered all attempts to calm more than tricky.
“When are you going to listen to me, stupid little girl?!”
The hag was growing more impatient and even though her frustration was understandable since you had done everything wrong since this morning, the words she had used were the final nail to your coffin. Fedyor was right.
She had barely finished speaking when her frustrated taunt triggered a hurricane of aching memories to surge back. The cold, the violence, the screams, the smell. That disgusting and haunting combination of funfair fragrances, blood, sweat and tears.
Baghra didn’t know it but she had used the exact same words and tone Tante Heleen had used that one night she had got caught stealing food. Obviously, you had been heavily punished for that.
The memory struck like a lash itself, sharp and violent. Almost as brutal as the phantom bite of the whip across your back, the pain searing not just your pale skin but carving itself deep into your soul. Each cruel blow came accompanied by the echo of Tante Heleen’s voice, mocking, mean, and melting with Baghra’s. Stupid girl. Going to listen. Simmering in your blood, your overstimulated power only made it more vivid, to the extent that you could genuinely feel the sensation of the coarse leather against your back. The ache bloomed like a fire spreading across you, a sadistic reminder of your humiliation. Desperation. Of wounds that never truly healed.
LiStEn YoU sTuPiD GiRL.
The bitch scolded again. Baghra or Tante Heleen? You couldn’t differentiate them anymore.
And with the last flash of memory of the whip tearing your skin apart came a scream from your pretty mouth — a banshee’s shriek, haunting, blood freezing, that resounded in the room. So piercing Baghra immediately protected her ears with the palms of her hands. Following your cry, Tanya gasped loudly for your unleashed power burst, uncontrollable, and made her body both convulse and twist under the command of your moving fingers. The room itself seemed to spin as the energy slipped out of your control.
“Stop it!” You had the blurry impression that Baghra had screamed at you but her voice sounded so far away you thought she also, just like the flashbacks, belonged to your past. And all your life you’d drilled yourself to think that all that belonged to the past should be ignored, if not buried six feet deep.
One quick look at the frozen and determined expression etched on your broken doll face was enough for Baghra to understand; you had gone too far and she wasn’t sure she could fetch you back from the dark waters of your trauma. “Heaven, you’re hurting her!” She called your name again but you didn’t hear, the scorching hatred in your eyes turning her blood into liquid nitrogen. The wise woman’s instincts faltered, feeling powerless against the disaster unraveling before her. ”HEAVEN!” She barked, louder, but her voice lacked its usual commanding tone.
Tanya’s final gasp echoed before she crumpled to the ground, blood coming from her nose and eyes. In an instant, the old Grisha feared that you had really killed her.
“No! Tanya!” She cried out, a hint of panic weaving itself with the very tone of her usually neutral voice. Baghra was about to move, her eagle eyes assessing whether she needed to knock you out or bounce on the poor motionless girl in an attempt to push her out of your line of sight. It was about acting rapidly if she didn’t want the weight of an innocent Grisha’s death on her shoulders for she had been the one who had the idea of training you with a living target. When the fatality of the situation fell on her, realizing she couldn’t stop you anymore, Baghra stepped closer, her movements measured but hesitant. She stretched out her wooden cane as if to snap you back to reality, but the aura surrounding you was impenetrable, thick with chaos and grief. For the first time in years, fear crept into Baghra’s calculated resolve.
Then, everything went still. Black. Incredibly peaceful.
In the midst of your chaos, shadows had burst from the corners of the room as if replying to the tragic call of your despair and to the screams of your aching soul. They had slithered on the floor, bypassed the old witch and the Etheralki without the slightest hint of care, only to wrap around you in a cocoon, a bubble of obscurity. Just as they did in your dream.
Surprisingly, these same shadows were tangible, almost palpable: their sensation might have been a bit suffocating, one may even say thick, but they were definitely not oppressive — just agreeably heavy. At least enough to ground you. And when all you could see through the filter of your infernal fury was gruesome red and gold, pitch blackness settled in your mind and, with it, a calm you had never dream of washed over you, like a dark embrace that held you steady despite the storm.
Aleksander.
The recognition of him had been instant and didn’t require one single glance — you could have recognized his aura amongst thousands.
With crystal eyes filled with both fear and confusion, your lashes dared flutter open. The sight of the Black General appearing through black fog welcomed you, his imposing silhouette stepping toward you with both haste and confidence. No matter how terrifyingly deadly your powers were, Aleksander was everything but afraid. The tall darkness reached for you without a word nor hesitation, his arms pulling you tightly against him. Your body posed no more resistance. Quite the contrary, it fell limp against him just like a puppet whose strings had just been severed.
You melted as his warmth seeped into your arctic skin. A warmth that lit a comforting fire inside of you despite the thick layers of clothes which separated your two yearning beings. Ever-so-gently, one of Kirigan’s large hands ran up your neck and tangled in your magnificent long white hair to tug you closer. You shivered when his calloused fingers stroke your flesh. This time, it was real. Your eyelids shut tight again under the feeling of his strength, his body steady and unyielding as he enveloped you so tightly you were convinced that you would merge together.
You didn’t fight it.
You didn’t even want to.
Despite your loathing for unwanted and unexpected physical contacts, your small hands, trembling from exertion, moved instinctively and reached for him too. First and foremost, you touched his broad back, feeling his tense muscles under your moist palms. Your fingertips then brushed over the rich fabric of his kefta, the sensation of the wool slowly pulling you from numbness, before they trailed up to his square shoulders. Your hands rested there for a brief instant before you let your fingers curl through his dark hair, feeling the silken strands slip between your fingers.
Aleksander didn’t pull away during your exploration of him. In fact, he seemed to lean into your touch even more with a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest and his lips barely brushing against your ivory mane. Even though he had been a tad bit surprised by the fact you hugged him back at first especially since he hadn’t displayed any kind of affection to anyone in years, the General rapidly melted like butter under your caresses. His shoulders slouched a little and, with his face hidden from your sight, his traits softened in a turned briefly melancholic. Aleksander, who had thought he would never experience the devastating pleasure of holding someone he loved ever again, found a place he could finally feel bliss: your arms. For a moment, he couldn’t even tell which one of you was grounding the other. Deep down, and even if the goal behind display of affection had been to save you from your mind, it was you who embraced him so hard that he could feel the shattered, broken piece of his cursed soul stick back together. While still remaining an immovable anchor, the commanding figure of the General slipped away momentarily to reveal a glimpse of his real self.
“By the Saints…” The whisper had escaped Baghra’s lips as she watched the scene from outside the shadow. Her son, corrupted by ambition and pain, and that little wild Grisha clinging to each other for dear life...
She was aghast, astonished by the strange quality she noticed in Aleksander’s demeanor — a tenderness she had never seen before except once, with that little Healer from many centuries ago. The old witch clenched her jaw, for what she was witnessing now was the confirmation of the truth she had foreseen the first time you’ve met. And that truth was fate. There was something undeniable between her son and you, a bound that stretched beyond de realm of simple attraction. Yes, it was fate that was definitely pulling you together and you, little Heaven, was the key to whatever it was that Aleksander was becoming.
Aleksander could have released you now that you had calmed down a bit and that any risk of you snapping back to a killing spree mood had decreased but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Rather than stepping away, his grip became firmer and he didn’t stop until he could feel your heart beating against him. He pulled you closer and closer, your small breasts flattened against his chest and your heart catching the pace of his to drum in unison. It surely was a fleeting moment of peace, a moment that made you feel like the world had been lifted from your shoulders, if only for a minute. Barely acknowledging Baghra and the young Etheralki presence anymore, you lost yourself in the warmth, the comfort and the intensity of the moment. A little purr almost left your juicy lips as the General’s fingers tenderly traced along the line of your hair, soothing.
“I’m here.” His tender voice resounded, coming not only from his charming lips but from all around you.
The corner of your lips tugged into tiny, reassured and genuine smile.
”As always it seems…” Your voice dragged, words escaping your mouth before you thought of them because you didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to question what was happening between the two of you, nor why the General had always acted so differently with yours. For once, it was enough just to feel. To let his arms, body and shadows envelop you until you forget everything —the fear, the pain, the doubts. With him you were safe and you knew that if you were to break ever again, he would be there to keep you from crumbling apart.
“As always.” He whispered in your ear before reluctantly pulling back. The comforting warmth that had lulled you faded away cruelly.
He didn’t step back too far though, just enough to grab your chin and force you to look into his eyes. His unreadable gaze was so dark that there was no way to tell where his pupils stopped and where his iris started. You blinked, chasing away the remnants of dream dust from your long lashes as reality started to creep back.
“Are you alright?” He was quiet, almost whispering so that only you could hear. His hands were still resting on you, steady and loving.
You nodded in reply, though your body still felt the tremors of the experience, “I… Think so.”
But Kirigan didn’t release you immediately. In truth, his obsidian eyes lingered on you a moment longer until it fell on your lips, rosy and plump. Almost absentmindedly, as though struggling with his own desires, he simply put one of your long white strands back behind your ear in a gesture so intimate that your legs weakened. “Good.” He commented, before his thumb trailed down your jawline one last time and reached your lips. Heat suddenly flushed your cheeks, the blurry but steamy memories of that odd dream of him jumping back at you. His thumb gently pull at your fleshy lower lips and finally, with a soft sigh, the General let you go. He broke the contact, his other hand sliding along your arm in one last caress.
Cold settled back in his heart. And in yours.
“You’ve got a long way to go, Heaven.” He said, his tone far more soft than when addressing someone but that familiar authority and distance had come back. After ignoring the two others, he shot a quick glance at them to make sure that Tanya was fine. Or, at least, not dead.
You swallowed, teeth clenched, “I’m sorry to disappoint, General.”
“You’re not.” He cut more bluntly than he wished, “I just think that we still need to make a few adjustments to your training.” Aleksander stated, dark pupils surveying the slightest detail of your seraphic face.
“And what kind of adjustments if I may ask?” You hid again behind your fortress of ice, already embarrassed of the vulnerability you had shown to him earlier.
“A few private lessons with me.” The General’s lips curled into a subtle smirk, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes but carried an edge of amusement at the surprise you had tried to conceal behind your mask of coldness. The faintest dimple appeared on one side, softening the sharp and stubbled line of his jaw.
Baghra’s whole body stiffened while she watched the exchange quietly, knowing there was more to this suggestion than you realized. Much more. She looked at her son, unapproving, and knew.
She knew that he wanted to keep you, possessive and jealous as he was, beneath his watchful eyes.
☾ Please consider reblogging and commenting if you want the story to continue. It is what motivates writers to write the next chapters...
i miss shadow and bone (tv show) i think maybe i am a YA or romantasy fan but i just don't like cliches and spice. the show was so well done and good and fun and yet i can never have that vibe again.
What grisha order HOTD/GOT characters would be in (and if they’d have an amplifier)
A/N: please don’t come for me because I didn’t put all the targaryens in inferni, it would’ve gotten so repetitive 🙏
Squaller - Squallers are able to manipulate air pressure in order to hurl objects or people through the air in combat.
Harwin, lucerys, Jacaerys, Lysa, rickon
Inferni - An Inferni can increase a fire's volume and intensity to create a powerful stream of fire or concentrate it into a fireball capable of large explosions.
Tidemaker - An ordinary Tidemaker can control currents, summon water or moisture from the air or a nearby source, Tidemakers are also able to convert water into mist, they can also use this mist to drown someone on land.
Corlys, Laenor, yara/asha, Theon,
Alkemi - Alkemi specialize in chemicals like blasting powders and poisons, Alkemi can also separate poison from water.
Samwell, Oberyn
Durast - durast manipulate glass, steel, wood, plants, stone, or anything solid on a molecular level. This includes changing a solid object’s shape, texture, or composition. They can make flowers bloom, remove an object's pigment, move things without touching them, and even absorb harmful matter from another person's body into their own.
Viserys I, Rhaena, Aegon, Gwayne, Tyrion, Robb, Eddard, Robert, Jorah, Loras, Bronn, Sandor, gendry, Jon
Heartrender - Heartrenders manipulate the body on a molecular level, they can crush a persons lungs, take the air from their lungs them while keeping them breathing, induce heart attacks, influence emotions, slow and/or speed a heart to dangerous levels.
Healer - healers use their powers to heal others. They can mend bones, heal wounds, etc.
Helaena, Sansa, maester luwin, brienne
Tailor - Tailors are capable of changing a person's bone structure and face shape. They can also remove skin flaws and add a blush to the face.A skilled Tailor can also change body shape, such as shoulder positioning. More skilled Tailors can change someone's face for long periods of time and possibly permanently alter features. If they choose to, a Tailor can also alter their vocal cords and grow their hair.
Arya, Varys
Amplifier wielders - Amplifiers are animals, humans, or any of their physical remains that increase a Grisha's power.
Rhaenyra, Oberyn, Viserys I, Mysaria, Aemond, Melisandre, Margaery, Brienne, Arya
something something the crows are all dead before the narrative begins, yes, And!!! they’re each reborn in a body of water. kaz is born in ketterdams harbor, but the child he was died there with his brother. wylan loses any hope that his father might love him in the harbor escaping his fathers men, inej loses her faith in herself, her inner child, when she can’t jump into the water and die to escape the menagerie. jespers mother dies saving a girl who drank from a poisoned well, so he too loses something to the water. nina and matthias both lose their faith in humanity when jarl brum leaves the grisha to drown in that slave ship. each of them goes into the water and comes out something else. none of them can ever go back again, now that they’ve seen the truth. they were ghosts from the beginning
Me: *hears the line "Fine, make me your villain" for the first time watching the trailer*
Me: Oh that sounds cool and badass. Is it about a good/morally grey character forced to be a vigilante to protect innocents or those he loves? Then I'm intereste-
The Darkling: *is an abusive grooming 400yo+ pos that seduced a naive and isolated 17yo orphan so she would obey him and he could exploit her powers for his own goals like mass murder and world domination*
*says this line after being confronted by the ones he assaulted and called out on his fucked up deeds/goals/means*
