Her Balance | Nikolai x Reader x Darkling

~ Chapter 7 ~

Hello, my lovelies!!

Let's get into it.

First Person - Y/n

"I am going to kill you!" I yelled at Sturmhond as he walked in. 

I had been pacing back and forth in a heavily furnished tent, one of the few that remained in the Grisha camp next to Kribirsk. Alina and Mal were also standing inside with me and they were both just as angry. 

"Really? Future Princess Lantsov and the Commander of the First Army?!" I asked, "Did you get hit in the damn head? Do you even have one?!"

"Sunbeam-"

"So help the Saints, if you call me sunbeam again, I am going to cut you in half."

"Do I get to choose light or shadows? Cause I would prefer light," replied Sturmhond smiling and I continued to glare at him, "Ok, not in the mood, understood."

Cautiously, he removed his sword and hung it on a post by the tent flap.

"I'm just here to talk," he said. "And explain."

"So talk," Mal retorted. "Who are you, and what are you playing at?"

"Nikolai Lantsov, but please don't make me recite my titles again. It's no fun for anybody, and the only important one is 'prince.'"

"I should've known you were the prince," I said angrily, "When I first met you, there was..."

"There was what, Y/n?" asked Sturmhond. 

"There was something, and I remember feeling it before. At my promotion."

"An encounter that I never forgot," he replied. 

"And what about Sturmhond?" Alina asked.

"I'm also Sturmhond, commander of the Volkvolny, scourge of the True Sea."

"Impossible."

"Improbable."

"This is not the time to try to be entertaining," I said angrily. 

"Please," he said in a conciliatory tone. "Sit. I don't know about you, but I find everything much more understandable when seated. Something about circulation, I suspect. Reclining is, of course, preferable, but I don't think we're on those kinds of terms yet."

I didn't budge. Mal and Alina crossed their arms.

"All right, well, I'm going to sit. I find playing the returning hero a most wearying task, and I'm positively worn out." 

He crossed to the table, poured himself a glass of kvas, and settled into a chair with a contented sigh. He took a sip and grimaced. 

"Awful stuff," he said. "Never could stomach it."

"Then order some brandy, your highness," I said irritably. "I'm sure they'll bring you all you want."

"True enough. I suppose I could bathe in a tub of it. I may just."

Mal threw up his hands in exasperation and walked to the flap of the tent to look out at the camp.

"You have to understand, the only place I could safely reveal my identity was here in Ravka. Only the most trusted members of my crew knew who I really was—Tolya, Tamar, Privyet, a few of the Etherealki. The rest...well, they're good men, but they're also mercenaries and pirates."

"So you deceived your own crew?" Mal asked.

"On the seas, Nikolai Lantsov is more valuable as a hostage than as a captain. Hard to command a ship when you're constantly worrying about being bashed on the head late at night and then ransomed to your royal papa."