• Control • Matthias Helvar x Reader

1

"Ew, ew, ew."

I groaned as I shoved the hulking mass off me, the dead Drüskelle man making a thump as his body hit the snowy ground.
Just breathe, I thought to myself.

I opened my eyes and stared at the cloudy gray sky as I laid on my back, regaining my composure. Sitting up, I looked around at the other Drüskelle, laying motionless in the snow. Sighing, I get up, and brush the snow off my black Kefta. Looking around for my cloak, I tug it out from under one of the men, shaking the dirt and snow off.

Shivering, I wrapped the dark cloak over myself, both concealing my kefta underneath and keeping myself warm.

I will admit, it is a very risky thing to be hiding about near the Fjerdan border, let alone as a Grisha. But that also means there are less Grisha roaming these territories.
So less of a chance they will find me.

Brushing the accumulating snow from my face, I whistled. Sure enough, I heard the familiar sound of hooves.
"Good boy, Sirius," I said, petting the large black stallion's muzzle. Taking hold of the reins, I hopped onto his back, and we took off through the forest.

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The streets of Chernast were vastly different than those I grew accustomed to in Os Alta. Bright colors replaced by dreary grays, Grisha and merchants by slavers and Drüskelle. Sleet and snow littered the dirty ground and rooftops, turning everything into a grayish blue tone.

I walked on foot through the streets, Sirius following close behind, until I reached what I presumed to be an inn of sorts. Tying the reigns to a post, I pulled up the hood of cloak to conceal my h/c hair, ensuring the rest was adequately covering my kefta as I headed inside.

I walked quietly through the bustling saloon so as to not draw much attention, internally gagging at the harsh scent of alcohols that plagued the air. Making my way to the counter, I cleared my throat and addressed the innkeeper.

"How much for a room, sir?"

The man glanced over at me from where he was conversing with another patron, and eyed me up and down. To be fair, it was very uncommon of a woman to wander unaccompanied into such a scene. He flashed a sly grin.
"Thirty kruge," the man said.
I scoffed. "Thirty, are you serious? You've got to be joking" I said.
He sauntered up and leaned over the bar across from me. "I'll be happy to accept payment in...other ways," he sneered.

Frowning, I rolled my eyes and pulled the thirty kruge from my satchel and tossed it on the table, shooting him a glare worth daggers.
The man frowned and reluctantly took the money, fishing some keys from beneath the bar. "And an additional five."
"Excuse me?!" I scoffed. "I just gave you thirty!"
"I don't take kindly to a woman that favors acting like a bitch," he sneered.
"You little—"
"Djerland, enough," said a gruff voice from behind me. "Didn't your mother teach you to respect a woman?"

The man's voice was laced with a heavy accent, and I cursed internally. Fjerdan.
The innkeeper, "Djerland", grumbled in response. Fishing a pair of keys from under the table, he reluctantly tossed them over to me before he sauntered away.

"Thank you," I said quietly, avoiding his eyes and wrapping my cloak more closely to myself, praying to the Saints that the kefta was not seen as the man sat in the stool next to me.
"Of course," said the Fjerdan, taking a sip from his glass and placing it on the counter.

Quickly looking him over made it easy for me to decipher that this man was, in fact, a Drüskelle. The same kind of people that hunt and kill people like me. The same kind of people I killed in the woods not many hours ago.
Avoiding any more interaction, I accepted a glass of water from a waiter and kept my eyes anywhere other than the Grisha-hunter sitting next to me.

"You're not from here."

I glanced over at him, only to find him already watching me. "I'm sorry?"
"You aren't from here, are you?" he asked.
"Um, no. No, I'm not," I chuckled nervously, looking away.
"Where are you from then?"
I looked back at him. From what I could tell, he was just trying to make conversation. He was quite nice to look at, actually.
"Ryevost," I said simply.
He seemed deep in thought for a moment. "Where is that?" He asked.
I cleared my throat. "Near Os Alta."
"Ah," he said, "South, like the palace?"
I nodded, feeling the nerves kicking in.
"I figured."
I felt the color drain from my face. "Oh?" I asked, willing myself not to stutter. "How's that?"
"You look like it," he chuckled.
"How so?"
He shrugged, a ghost of a smile still present on his face. "You have different accent, and more color. Not like here in the North," he said. I must have looked confused, because he chuckled and said "I don't know, you just do."
I sighed, much to my own relief. "Alright," I said, smiling softly, sipping from my glass."
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Y/n," I said. "Y/n Lietsev," giving him a fake last name. Because Saints know that the name Y/n L/n was known all over Ravka, and I could not afford the Drüskelle in front of me to know that too.
He nodded. "Matthias Helvar," he said.

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I hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter! It feels so good to write again. Feel free to comment any suggestions, or dm me on insta @zahra.skywalker ! Anyone that follows specifically from here will get added to a close friends story, where I'll post updates on the story, and let you know when to expect a new chapter!!! Might even get some sneak peeks too!
Have a great day!
- Aya (JediPotato)