TW: rape/non-con, violence, abuse
Pls take care of yourself and only read if you feel mentally fit to. 3
The Tsar's drawing room was by no means as opulent as the Tsarina's wing. However, Genya could not deny that the polished dark wood furniture with moss green padding and the large carpet that muffled her footsteps had an elegance of their own.
There was silence here mostly, even the men present spoke quietly to each other or stared into amber liquids in crystal glasses.
Genya had lost sight of the Tsar and was now navigating the many rooms and dimly lit corridors herself. She knew the way much better than she would have liked.
She passed the guards without being bothered, they knew her face, she hardly attracted any more attention here. Occasionally a pair of curious eyes followed her, Genya simply brushed off the hungry stares.
Once in the antechamber, she was met by a man Genya hated almost as much as the Tsar himself.
Xador was the Tsar's valet and, in Genya's eyes, probably the most disgusting person she had ever met.
He towered over her by almost two heads, he was tall and lanky, his sinewy limbs always looked a little clumsy and his long fingers were slightly curled, ready to grab what didn't belong to him. Small watery eyes regarded Genya sardonically and a grin bared crooked teeth. Like a rat, Genya thought, trying hard not to tremble.
"Genya," Xador croaked, signalling the guard. The door closed behind Genya and her chest felt tight. The valet rejoiced in violence. Genya had experienced it first-hand. Both watching violence and participating, drew him completely out of his shell and brought an eerie glint to his eyes.
"Xador," her voice was like ice. She didn't want to let on how much he disgusted her and how much she dreaded what was about to happen.
He silently gestured for her to follow him, and Genya entered the Tsar's room behind him.
"There she is," the Tsar's voice from behind the screen was almost welcome to her, at least she and Xador were no longer alone. "Search her, Xador. You know the drill, girl."
With trembling hands, Genya unfastened the buttons of her Kefta.
Xador shifted his weight, his long fingers affectionately fingering the hilt of his short sword.
The seconds dragged on, and Genya was caught in a strange state of absolute calm and blind panic. The Kefta slipped off her shoulders and she slowly laid it over the back of a chair that was within her reach.
"Your shoes," Xador instructed her with a bored expression, and Genya slipped off the soft leather boots as well. She felt stark naked in the light blue satin dress.
Xador stepped forward and Genya spread her arms, turning slowly in a circle once.
"That's not enough," Xador informed her sluggishly, slowly getting uncomfortably close. Genya took a step back and bumped into the chair.
"Stay here," Xador's hand felt clammy as he closed it around her upper arm, "you know the drill, filthy Grisha slut," he pulled her roughly towards him.
With his long fingers he felt first her arms, then her back. Genya could feel his foul breath on her neck and her insides squirmed.
His touch crept down her spine and she closed her eyes as he stoutly reached for her butt.
I'm a soldier.
"Scum," she muttered to herself and Xador grabbed her shoulder and turned her towards him. His unpleasant breath hit her face and Genya pressed her lips together, holding her breath.
He didn't seem to have heard her, or she would surely have caught a slap. Xador continued in silence, groping her breasts for so long until Genya finally slapped his hand away.
"That's enough," she hissed, somehow managing to turn her fear into anger.
He just grinned gleefully and ran his hands slowly over her ribs, down her hips. When Xador got down on his knees to feel her legs, Genya was briefly tempted to ram her knee into his ugly face. She fantasised about the crack of his nose and the blood that would gush from it as he slid his hand under her dress and placed it on the inside of her knee.
But fantasies were all that remained for Genya. She did not move, was frozen, and only hoped that this torture would be over quickly. It brought her little satisfaction to know that he was about to absorb the poison on her skin. It wasn't enough to make him seriously ill, but it was a small comfort.
Xador had his gaze fixed on her face as his hand continued to move upwards. She returned his gaze coldly, trying desperately to hide the fact that she wanted nothing more than to run screaming. I am a soldier.
Startled, Genya gasped as Xador plunged two fingers into her and curled them. He just kept grinning and the Tailor felt the colour drain from her face.
If only she lifted her knee and rammed it into his face... fear paralysed Genya. The Saints only knew what he would do if she put up a serious fight.
"That's enough Xador," the Tsar stepped out from behind the dressing screen and shook his head with a tired smile, "you know I don't like to share."
Genya didn't know whether to be grateful, angry, or disgusted.
Xador withdrew his fingers and stood up again.
"She has no weapons with her, Highness," he informed the Tsar with a rehearsed bow.
"I wouldn't have expected that," the Tsar replied, waving his hand, "leave us, Xador."
If his valet was a rat, the ruler was a toad. He was plump, his thinning greyish hair sticking smoothly to his fat head. His voice was high-pitched, and his breath whistled when he overexerted himself.
Genya was not the least bit surprised that the Tsarina was so unhappy. She had been married young and beautiful to a handsome prince. This handsome prince was now a fat, middle-aged man, who had the charm of a mouldy apple.
"Your Highness," Genya curtsied again. She knew the Tsar would be more lenient if she was not rebellious. It had long since ceased to be a question of escaping him; Genya rather tried to make the time that followed, bearable. If she had to play it cool, then that was what she would do. I am a soldier.
All these thoughts lost power the more the Tsar touched her. Genya did not shudder under the damp cold kisses that wet her skin and lips. His clumsy hands with their short fingers touched her in a way that made Genya want to scream. But she pressed her lips together and let out an approving sigh every now and then. Fear bound her in her role, the slightest misstep was her damnation.
She did not hesitate when he ordered her to kneel before him, letting him lead her to the bed without resistance.
All the while she tried to keep up her wall, which crumbled with each time the Tsar went further. Genya buried her face in one of the pillows, the fabric soaking up her tears as he tore at her red hair, his fingers digging roughly into her flesh.
I am a soldier.
She didn't feel like a soldier. She felt like she was caught in a time warp, transported back to her 13-year-old self. She was a little girl, full of fear, not knowing what was going on.
Genya managed to dry up her tears in time before he'd see her face again. The Tsar climaxed with a whistling snort.
Genya was about to set herself on fire when she felt his seed inside her. Her loins ached, as did her thighs and hips. Red spots were already forming where he had dug his fingers into her flesh. I am a soldier.
He rolled off her and patted her back awkwardly. Genya didn't move until his whistling breathing turned into a loud snore.
Carefully, she moved away from him and, getting up, reached for one of his countless handkerchiefs to wipe her thighs.
She could not hear any sounds outside the door or beyond, it was as if the whole world had sunk into complete silence. Genya slipped the satin dress back on and put on her Kefta, slipped on her boots and without a glance in any of the mirrors, she left the room.
No one lingered in the Tsar's rooms anymore and Genya quickened her steps. She wanted to get to her room, have a hot bath and longed for sleep that would be dreamless.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed movement.
Xador stepped nimbly out of the shadows and leapt towards her with an agility she would never have thought him capable of. He yanked her to the ground and pressed a hand over her mouth. "Scream and you're dead, Grisha cunt," he hissed.
Genya froze. I am a soldier.
She nodded and swallowed dryly. She searched for her strength inside herself, which retreated like a frightened child when Genya visited the Tsar. With inconceivable effort, she managed to lift her hand. She raised the temperature of her skin and pressed the glowing hot palm to his face.
Xador ran his hand over his face, shrieking, and Genya rolled to the side beneath him. She scrambled to her feet, he grabbed her Kefta, the sound of ripping fabric erupting, but nothing could stop Genya.
She ran, spurred on by panic and adrenaline, through the dark corridors and out into the deserted courtyard.
The cold air finally allowed her to catch her breath properly, all sensation returning in one fell swoop. The force of the pain Genya felt almost made her fall to her knees. A few scattered lights still shone in the Little Palace.
Home. She slowed her steps and dragged herself across the grass towards the Little Palace.
