R&R
Predatel'stvo
A Grisha Trilogy Fanfiction
A/N: Alright, so I've been wrestling myself with this for a long, long time.
Like everyone else, I'm sure we've all been speculating on the Darkling's past, and the only reason I'm dying for the third book is to know what the hell happened to the Darkling when he became the Black Heretic. And part of the reason I was/am so hesitant with the direction Doveryat' is taking is because I rather know the Darkling's past so I can tie it into in future chapters.
Still I kept asking myself, what would make the Darkling so greedy for power, but still manage to show a side that seems to want to help the Grisha more than anything, to overthrow the king so badly and put Ravka through hell for centuries.
So although I think it's a little cliche, I chose to go this route, which in a way complements my other story. While Doveryat' focuses on trust, this one is all about betrayal. Which sets a nice backstory for the Darkling and Alina's relationship.
There is soo much I want to say about this short little attempt on making a past for the Darkling, but I feel it would end up being longer than the story itself.
I really wasn't sure whether I should post it or not, but I figured it would be a waste of a plot bunny if I didn't. Whatever the true story of the Darkling, I wanna take a crack at my own, and like I said, at least it would work well alongside my other fic and where I wanna go with it.
Part I
He is born like any other. A large head upon a small body, four limbs connected to five small digits each, a patch of dark hair on his head. His cry joins the pained gasps of his mother before he is placed in her arms, wrapped in several layers of wool.
Although he does not realize it, he is born in the ideal place for his kind.
And it isn't long before his powers manifest, earlier than any before him.
Merzost, they call him.
Abomination.
He hears them as whispers behind his back, in the way the kids his age shy away from him and laugh when they think he can't hear, in the apprehension that reflects in the gaze of the adults when they regard him.
"Don't pay them any mind," his mother says, "You are gifted, my sweet magical child."
He is young, but he is smarter than most. He doesn't need her words of reassurance. He understands their fear, why they stay away. He has power, power that they do not. Power that makes him unpredictable, fearful.
But he finds comfort in the darkness. It is an extension of him, his earliest companion. He summons tendrils of shadow and wraps them around flowers and stones, blades of grass and even trees.
This power is rare, which makes him all the more unpredictable. His mother shares this power, but she hides it, to maintain her place as a servant of the castle, to give her son a good living.
But not him.
He embraces his power, and makes a silent promise to be better than his mother. He refuses to be cast aside, to be treated as nothing more than the dirt they walk on.
No. Not him.
So when the young prince of the palace extends the olive branch, he is surprised.
"Let's be friends," he says, "Life in the castle can be dull, you look like you could make things interesting."
Friendship was the last thing he expected from someone of royal descent. It is a foreign concept, but one he learns to cherish.
Soon his shadow is joined by another, as they make the vast lands and gardens of the palace theirs. It is their battle grounds, where they make their imaginary army conquer land after land, where they search for creatures of myth and lore. They battle giants and dragons, Fjerdans and Shu Han.
But sometimes, they battle each other.
"You can be the evil sorcerer," says the young prince.
The dark haired boy isn't bothered by this declaration, and he only hardens his gaze and summons his shadows. If it is a villain he wants, a villain he'll get.
When the young prince runs home frightened, his only fear is that he'll be reprimanded. For three days he awaits the inevitable punishment, perhaps even banishment from the King and Queen.
Instead, on the fourth day, the young prince returns, chin high as he asks to see his powers again. This time, he won't back down.
The dark haired boy welcomes the challenge.
When the young prince begins the lessons that will teach him to be king, he chooses to evade his tutors and find him instead. It is only when he brings along his books that he learns of theory, philosophy, mathematics, and politics. He takes to it like a fish takes to swimming and a bird takes to flying.
And others take notice.
No longer is he merely merzost, but a chudonyi instead. A prodigy. Some are weary, others are thrilled. But he has the young prince on his side, and none dare act on any malevolent thoughts.
When the young prince is given his first sword, he too receives one. They become sparring partners, and it soon becomes obvious who the better swordsman is.
The young prince shrugs off the countless defeats, knowing in his heart that he is still the one with the power. After all, it is he that will rule Ravka as king, not the dark haired boy he took pity on and now calls friend.
As they become young men, their differences become obvious.
The young prince is thin, tall, with a weak chin and beady eyes. He has a love for beautiful women, the arts, and fine wing and kvas. He is charismatic, charming, and has an obvious passion for war and strategy.
Many take notice of the dark haired boy as well. He grows into a handsome man, with thick dark hair, sharp quartz eyes, and a chiseled jaw. The young girls who once laughed behind his back now whisper and giggle for different reasons as he passes. But it is more than that. He is smart, a prodigy in all matters. It is why when the young prince enlists into the military to do his service, he follows as well.
The dark haired young man flourishes, and quickly rises in the ranks.
He learns the art of deception and striking fear into his enemies and allies a like. Where his power once turned those against him, it now gives him power over his enemies. He earns respect among the men, and soon, only his enemies call him merzost.
And it is while serving that it hits him.
A way to give others like him a place in Ravka, a place that doesn't place them below everyone else. They could be equal, if not more. He keeps the idea to himself at first, his sharp mind molding it into something tangible, something probable. He bides his time, searches for good candidates, and watches for an opportunity.
When an opportunity presents itself, he snatches for it.
No longer are they merzost, but soldiers. It is only a few in the beginning. A band of enlisted soldiers he gathered in his squad. But they prove that there is more to their powers than previously thought. They become weapons that were always feared, but now they are pointed at their enemies.
Not everyone is eager to accept them, but the young prince knows better. He grasps for the weapons that they can become. Weapons that he can control.
Grisha, they become.
"A second army…" says the young prince, placing a firm hand on the shoulder of the dark-haired man, "and you, my friend, can be their leader."
The dark haired man knows better, but accepts his victory with pride. Soon they will seek out other Grisha, and teach them to hone their powers. No longer will they be treated as lesser beings, no longer would they be swept away and forgotten.
No longer.
The era of the Second Army would begin, and the Grisha would rise.
The two young friends are in their prime and on their way to accomplish their dreams.
One will soon claim his title as King, and rule Ravka as his father and grandfather and great-grandfather before him.
The other will make a name of himself, earn the respect of those who once shunned him, and pave the way for those like him into a new and better era.
They are content.
Until one day, she arrives.
A sun summoner.
Like the dark haired young man, she is rare among their kind.
But unlike him, she is looked upon like a gem, rare and valuable as she shines brighter than anything anyone has ever seen.
She is from a highly respected noble family, and perhaps that is why she is more easily accepted than most. But her powers are not the only thing that makes her shine among the people, it is her beauty as well. Her brown locks and amber eyes leave men breathless and women green with envy. The confidence in her walk and bounce in her step would make anyone pause in their actions to take a better look at her.
When she arrives at the castle, it is nothing more than a social visit from her family for a few weeks.
But the young prince needs but one look to be taken by her, to know that this is the woman to be his queen.
The dark haired young man takes notice as well, fascinated by her power and captivated by her beauty. Never before has he taken a fancy to a woman before, but there is something about her. Something that draws him to her.
And she feels the same.
"It is our nature," she says one night, her hand searching for his and turning it so his open palm faces her own.
Shadows seep from his palm, and light from hers. The two forces dance with each other, entwining and twisting to a song only they can hear.
And it is beautiful.
As their lips touch, as their hands caress flesh and muscle, as they explore each other for the first time, giving in to the desire that every man and woman must at one point do, they do not see the angry and envious eyes that gaze upon them.
The young prince watches on with disdain in his eyes, and a promise of pain in their future.
A/N: Dun dun dunnn.
Is this worth continuing?