MORNING TRAINING WAS probably Freya's least favourite thing about the Little Palace. She was dragged out of her bed at the break of dawn and forced into a training room where the combat instructor, Botkin, made his students beat each other up. The former Shu mercenary had no mercy for anyone and Freya often ended up with bruises littered across her skin by the end of the lesson. His teaching method worked though, as Freya had quickly learned how to fend off opponents twice her size.

Botkin made sure that each student focused on their strengths. If the Grisha he was training was tall and muscular, he would teach them to work with their weight. If the Grisha he was training was slim, small and light of their feet, he would teach them speed, agility and flexibility until they could dance around their opponent like a skilled ballerina during a show. Freya belonged to the latter group of students, being just below the average height and faster than most of the other students in her group.

It was because of this that Botkin often paired her with students that used their weight and strength instead so she could learn to fight them off if need be. And the need would arise, she knew that much. She had seen some of the scars the older Grisha returned with from the front lines. Horrid and gnarly gashes and burns caused by bullets, bombs and drüskelle axes.

Today, however, Botkin had paired her with a girl similar to her own stature. She should never get used to fighting the same opponent, he had said as he batted away the much bulkier boys that had prepared to take their place on the opposite side from her. Instead, he pointed to a girl with short black hair and small shoulders. Freya thought her name was Calina and she had been born on Kerch.

Freya put her fist up in the defensive position in front of her like she had been taught to. Calina did the same, and then Botkin called for the match to begin.

Freya was hyper-aware of all of the eyes on her, of all of the excited whispers. It had been a while since she had fought someone her own size and she had to admit the sudden change made her a bit nervous. Botkin was right, she should never get used to fighting the same opponent. No matter how many times she took down the burly Vladimir who reminded her of a bear or the much taller Maksim who fought like a caged animal. It was foolish to grow comfortable. She should never be relaxed and never assume that she knows their every weakness.

There were no powers allowed in Botkin's classroom and Freya was extremely glad for that as she took in Calina's bright red kefta. She was three years older than her and had earned her colours, the black embroidery screaming at Freya like a huge warning sign. Freya didn't know what she would do if she ever had to fight a Heartrender face to face and only hoped that it would never come to that.

Calina was the first to lunge, her left fist shooting out faster than a bullet. Freya barely had enough time to sidestep away from the attack. She exhaled and steeled herself, forcing herself to zero in on the fight and ignore the prying eyes of her classmates. She knew that somewhere in the crowd, Zoya was watching, alongside Vanya and possibly even Luca – though he was often times paired off faster than Freya was.

The General's son and the Sound Bender. Everyone wanted to say that they had defeated them in a fight. So far, only four people had the privilege to say so about Freya. Zoya, Luca, Ivan and Vladimir. No one could say they had faced Luca in a fight and won.

Calina lunged again, this time aiming for Freya's abdomen. She blocked the attack and let her own fist fly. Calina blocked her just as efficiently as Freya had done to her. Another lunge, another side step and then Calina had kicked out her leg. The attack was perfectly timed, meant to kick Freya's legs out from right beneath her when she was recollecting her stability. Freya inhaled sharply, preparing to fall. Luckily, her hands shout out instinctively and she grabbed Calina's leg in midair. And then she pulled.

Calina's body hit the ground with a loud thud. She immediately made to get up, but this time it was Freya's turn to kick. Her foot collided directly with Calina's chest. A foul move in any honourable fighting ring, but Botkin did not believe in fairness. It was why he made her fight boys the size of bears, why he had paired her with Calina, a girl three years older than her, a girl that had seen the Shu frontline and lived to tell about it.

It was why many Grisha survived the battles they were sent to begin with. They fought dirty, they fought tooth and nail. They would fight even when there was only a single drop of blood in their veins because that was what was drilled into them from the moment they stepped into Botkin's training rooms.

Calina's chest heaved beneath her foot and the girl tried to wriggle free from the weight. They were the same size and a similar weight, but she could not fight against it when Freya kneeled down on her chest and placed her hands around her throat. She squeezed only slightly, but hard enough for Calina's eyes to widen and for her hand to flail out and tap out.

Freya grinned as she got off the girl and helped her stand.

"You got cocky," Botkin said from the sidelines. Both Freya and Calina turned to look at him, but his eyes were only trained on the older Kerch girl. "You saw your opponent and assumed she was weaker than you because she was younger, you thought that you would win because you had more experience."

Calina nodded. "I did, sir," she admitted with a calm voice. She turned slightly to Freya and muttered to her, "No offence." Freya grinned and waved her hand at the remark. She wasn't offended, it was a good thing that her opponents underestimated her.

"Never assume," Botkin lectured, and then he was turning away. Applause rang out across the room, but it was not the same applause that she was used to. It was much more boisterous, loud, and accompanied by a half-drunken chuckle. Freya turned her head to the door, the place where the sound was coming from.

She tensed as she saw the General standing there, his face the perfect mask of coldness and indifference. And beside him, the King stood with his cheeks flushed red from wine consumption and his chubby hands in front of him in applause. Beside him stood the Queen, her face the very picture of beautiful. She looked a bit surprised as if she had not expected whatever she had just seen. And finally beside her, the two princes. Crown Prince Vasily looked bored as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

But Prince Nikolai... he stared at her with barely concealed awe. There was a small smile on his face as he clapped alongside his father and his eyes sparkled with something that Freya could not make out from such a distance.

It was not unusual for the King to demand a tour of the Little Palace every now and then, but he had never been brought to one of Freya's classes. The General usually only showed them the workstations of the older Grisha so the King could see what the Grisha was working on. The Materialki always had something to show. It was strange that this time they had been brought to a training session meant for the younger, more inexperienced Grisha.

Everyone in the room was quick to bow in front of the royal family and Freya followed after them. The shock had worn off quickly enough. When the King and Queen turned away to speak to the General, Freya scurried towards the crowd. It was easy enough to find Zoya, her raven hair and her loud presence had to miss. She was watching Luca's still ongoing match.

"Hey," she whispered as she stopped at Zoya's side. Zoya hummed in acknowledgement, not taking her eyes off of the match for a single moment. "Who's winning?"

Zoya snorted. "Luca, obviously," she stated, flinching as Luca landed a particularly hard punch to his opponent's face. "Have you ever known him to lose a fight? Especially when the General is here?" No, Freya supposed she hadn't. In the General's presence, Luca was known to be even more focused on winning. It was him still vying for his father's attention, and for a boy of fourteen, that was completely understandable in Freya's eyes.

Luca danced around his opponent with ease, never losing balance and never taking a hit. His opponent, a tall Inferni with bulky muscles could barely keep up with him. Luca was tall and lean and even though his muscles weren't as strong as the Inferni's, he still held his own when it came down to brute force against brute force.

Freya looked over her shoulder, wondering if the General was watching his son's impressive performance. No, of course, he wasn't. The man's quartz eyes did not drift in his son's direction even once. Even when the King and the Queen gawked at the match, he barely registered it. Freya grew annoyed on Luca's behalf, pursing her lips.

And then the loud cracking of bone sounded and every eye in the room turned towards Luca's match. When a pained cry followed, even the General's attention was finally captured. Freya watched as his eyes widened the smallest, barely noticeable amount. That was strange, she thought as her head whipped around towards the direction of her friend. It was her turn to look shocked.

Luca was sprawled on the floor, a single pale hand clutched to his nose. His severely bleeding nose. Tears gathered in his eyes instinctively and he did not even try to stop them. He blinked rapidly, fighting to keep our vision clear as he scrambled across the floor and away from his sparring partner. The redness of his blood smeared across the wooden floor when his kefta was dragged through it.

The Inferni paused, ready to offer Luca a hand when Botkin barked, "Finish it, he hasn't tapped out!" And Luca wouldn't. He never tapped out. He would writhe on the ground in pain and frustration for as long as it took. He would do anything to keep himself from losing. Especially in front of his father.

As the Inferni stepped forward, a determined look set on his face, Luca's pupils dilated as he set his sights on him. He was closer now to a rabid animal than anything else. His instincts were undoubtedly screaming at him to fight, fight, fight, father is watching. Luca had described the feeling of anxiousness to her many times. The fear that if he failed his father would push him away even more. That he would be even less important to him than he was now.

"Yield," the Inferni commanded, making the mistake of getting cocky. They always got cocky. The Inferni's eyes flickered between Luca and the gathered crowd, a certain sparkle lighting up when he noticed not only the General but also the King watching him. Luca only sneered at him in response. When the Inferni lunged forward for what he thought would be the final strike, he rolled out of the way with a speed that Freya had never seen in him before.

"Come on, you can do it," she muttered under her breath, watching as Luca let go of his bleeding nose and swung his fist out wildly when the Inferni shot towards him. The fist collided and sent the Inferni to the floor, but he quickly scrambled to his feet. Luca did the same, not bothering to wipe the still-flowing blood from his nose.

Freya heard Zoya chuckle beside her and she turned her head slightly, raising a brow. Zoya jerked her head in the direction of the General, and Freya allowed herself to look once more. She released a breath of strange relief. The General was finally watching. Finally paying attention. All it took was his son bleeding for him to do so.

It took his son's mind to tap into that subconscious need to prove himself. The need he carried around everywhere. The need that would make him do things that weren't only harmful to others, but to himself as well. Freya had seen the way he worked himself raw in training in the weeks following an argument with his father. He rarely ate, slept, or did anything other than study and focus on training. It was not until he was near collapse that his own mother had to step in and force him to feed himself so he did not die of malnutrition before he could complete his goal.

Now, it seemed Luca wouldn't have to do those self-destructive things. The General's eyes followed his every move with a calculating gaze, a barely noticeable look of approval set in his cold features. Freya wouldn't even know that the look he wore now was one of approval had she not spent hours training with the man before the winter fete. She knew to read the subtle changes in his expression now. Knew what the slight dip of his brows meant, the soft clenching of his jaw or the narrowing of his eyes.

The Inferni hit the ground again and the air was knocked out of him. It was then that Freya knew that it was done. The Inferni drew in a sharp breath, hissing in pain. The short moment of distraction was enough for Luca to jump into action. He slid behind the Inferni and wrapped his arm around his throat, pulling him to his chest and holding him there. The Inferni tried to fight it, toppling their joined weight until Luca's back hit the ground with the Inferni's body on top of him.

That did not make Luca let go though, and it was only a few more moments until the Inferni's face turned plum purple and he tapped out. Instantly Luca let go. His pupils were blown wide and he was heaving for breath. But he had won, and Freya saw the exact moment that realization settled into his mind and he decided that running himself down and bleeding onto the floor was all worth it.

As soon as the Inferni tapped out, Vanya jumped forward with a handkerchief, pressing it carefully to his face. He waved her off, but she ignored him.

"Are you alright?" Freya asked as she stepped forward, Zoya right behind her. Luca took the handkerchief from Vanya's hand, wincing as he pressed it a bit harder to his clearly broken nose. He tipped his head forward and let go of his nose for a moment. A stream of blood flowed from his nose and down to the floor.

"I am just perfect!" he groaned, looking up as footsteps sounded coming towards them. "Oh Saints," he muttered when he noticed it was his father, shoulders suddenly tense. Freya placed her hand on his left shoulder and squeezed, trying to offer him some sort of comfort.

The General stopped in front of them, his face suddenly devoid of all the approval it previously bore. Freya gritted her teeth, knowing that Luca was about to get another blow of disappointment. It seemed that he knew it too, because whatever previous sparkle of hope he had in his eyes died and all that was left was a blank stare.

"Go see a healer," the General merely said, not bothering to congratulate his son in the slightest, or even ask if he was alright. To Freya's surprise and dismay, the General then turned to her. "The King and Queen wish to speak to you, Freya." Her brows furrowed, but she nodded and stood up, giving Luca a smile in apology before following after the General.

She wondered what the King would want to speak to her about. She had thought that he would prefer to ignore her like he did most other Grisha. It would have been best for her, she knew that much. The King smiled when she approached, his cheeks red and puffy from drunkenness. Freya forced herself not to grimace as the stench of overly sweet wine hit her nose. It was an acrid smell and it almost made her eyes water.

"Moi tsar," she greeted the King with a bow. "You wanted to speak to me?" The King squinted his eyes as if he had trouble remembering why he had asked for her. The Queen seemed to notice that and quickly stepped in, saving her husband at least a little bit of embarrassment.

"That was an impressive victory, my dear," the Queen complimented, her smile as dazzling as it always was. Freya took note that her hair seemed blonder than it had been during the winter fete and remembered that the tailor, Genya, had told her about the cosmetic fixes she did for the Queen. She had to wonder how the Queen would look if Genya stopped helping her entirely.

"Thank you, moya tsaritsa."

"Have you learned everything here at the Little Palace?" the King finally found his words, lifting his brows in a way that told Freya he was only pretending to be interested. If this was what they had wanted to speak to her about, she did not find it necessary. There were enough Grisha in her class alone that were amazing fighters and there were most definitely better fighters in other classes. They could have asked any other Grisha, but they had chosen to speak to her. Not for the first time, Freya cursed her unique Sound Bender abilities

"Yes, Botkin is a wonderful teacher," she answered, holding her hands behind her back and keeping her back as straight as possible. She did not want them to think she was insulting them in any way. She didn't know how susceptible to attitude changes the royal family was.

"Surely, you had to have known something before coming here!" Prince Vasily's arrogant sneering voice came from beside the King. Freya turned her head to look at him. He was visibly curling his nose up at Botkin. Freya wanted to scoff. It was undoubtedly because he was Shu and not Ravkan. It was not the first time that Freya had seen such blatant racism.

Freya forced her face to remain neutral. She didn't need her dismay and dislike of the eldest Prince showing blatantly on her face. It was a wonder that he had even let such a sentence past his lips. One would think the Crown Prince of Ravka would be well-educated in the traditions and cultures of his neighbouring countries.

"Fjerdan women are not allowed to fight, as I am sure you know, moi tsarevitch." Freya painted her tone to be one of reminder, though she knew that anyone smart enough would see it for the insult it was. "Besides, I was only seven when I was taken to the Little Palace. I had never held a weapon in my life."

The General finally decided that this conversation was enough. "Prince Nikolai wanted to see your training rooms. Would you be so kind as to show him?" It was not a suggestion, but a clear command as he placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. Freya nodded, glad to at least be allowed to leave the presence of the reeking King and his annoying son.

"Follow me, my Prince," she bade Nikolai to follow her, which he quickly did with a small smile.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"The training rooms are just around the corner," she told Nikolai as they walked together down the hall. Nikolai seemed to find everything extremely interesting and did not hesitate to ask every question that popped up in his head. It was rather endearing, Freya had to admit. The only other person she knew with such a child-like wonder was David, and he rarely exhibited it in such an open way. His wonder was reserved for his experiments and his mind. Nikolai's was basically oozing out of every pore.

"Why do you have your own training rooms? I've been meaning to ask for a while." Nikolai let yet another question fall from his lips. "Don't you train in the Summoner's pavilions like the rest of the Etherealki?"

Freya nodded. "I do, but the General decided that I must explore my powers separately from others. He trains me himself, most of the time," she explained. "I have three training rooms in total. The General had them made about a year ago."

"Why three?"

"Each one had a different amount of soundproofing. The first has only enough soundproofing so the people outside the room don't hear me using my power. It can get quite loud, most of the time. The second is soundproofed a little differently. You still wouldn't be able to hear anything outside, but the sound waves inside of the room are absorbed quicker than in a normal room and it is more difficult for me to summon. The General wanted me to learn control with that." Nikolai nodded along, eyes sparkling with fascination. "The third one is completely soundproof. You can't hear anything except for the sound of your own body. You can sit in that room and scream at the top of your lungs but the sound will disappear the second after you do it."

"That sounds... strange," Nikolai said, tilting his head to the side slightly in thought. "What do you mean you can only hear the sound of your own body?" A shiver ran down Freya's back. Once, she had been stuck in that training room for four hours and she had almost been driven mad.

"There is nothing else for your mind to register, so you hear your own blood running through your ears, the sound of your heartbeat is almost amplified. Sometimes, you can even hear your muscles shift. It is rather disturbing." Nikolai curled his nose and furrowed his brows.

"I am not sure I want to go in there any more," he admitted. He paused in his step, staring out the window for a bit. Freya stopped walking as well. For a moment she thought he was genuinely scared to go into the training room, but then he opened his mouth a spoke. "I've heard people say you use sound waves to break things sometimes. If you can hear the sound of your heartbeat, could you not use the sound of other people's heartbeats for such a thing as well?"

Freya paused to think. It wasn't entirely impossible she supposed. She could use the bubbling of a stream or even someone exhaling, so why wouldn't she be able to do that? Then her mind wandered to what it would do with the person's body if she were to do that. She imagined the wooden target exploding upon the impact of her magic. Would a person be torn up just like that if she were to do what Nikolai suggested?

"I suppose, but I would have to consult the General on that," she told him. Nikolai nodded and they continued walking. When they turned the corner, Freya once again stopped. There was a glass door on the wall to their left. Freya was well aware of where it led. She looked at Nikolai, wondering if he would be angry if they took a detour. "Would you mind if we went here first? There is something I wish to do."

Nikolai shook his head without hesitation, and so Freya went to the glass door and carefully pushed it open. Humidity instantly stuck to her skin. The greenhouse was, as always, incredibly hot. The various plants flourished in greens, reds, yellows and blues. Most of them were grown for the Alkemi to use, but Freya had managed to convince Katya to allow her a planter of her own.

For a moment, she felt foolish for convincing Nikolai to come here. It was a personal matter, really, and she did not need him to see any vulnerability that she may show. They walked in silence for a few moments before they reached the small planter that Freya had been given.

There were small green sprouts growing from the soil, not yet grown out properly. She knew that when the time came, the plant would bloom red. She grabbed the aluminium watering can not too far from the planter. She carefully watered the sprouts, ignoring Nikolai's gaze that practically burned her skin.

"What is it?" he asked when she was done. Freya sighed, looking down at the planter. She suddenly felt the growing urge to cry. She practically already tasted the salt at the back of her throat. She bit the inside of her cheek until the immediate urge went away and she could look at Nikolai.

"Crimson clover," she answered. "It grows every year in spring around Halmhend. Some farmers use it as a cover crop in their fields." She wavered for a moment, wondering if she should continue. Nikolai's face remained soft though, as if he could sense there was more significance to the plant than what she had told him up until that point. "My father always used to bring it home to my mother. It's one of the few things I remember. My mother once told me that during their wedding, she wore a flower wreath of crimson clover on her head. It was a symbol of their union."

Nikolai did not say anything for a while. Freya was not sure she wanted him to. She preferred the silence, so she could bathe in the waters of her blurred memories for a while longer. When Freya turned away from him, he carefully grasped her forearm, tugging softly until she looked at him again.

"I am sorry you had to lose them," he said. And he truly did look sorry. It was an entirely new feeling for someone to seem truly sorry. She gave him a small and weak smile, hoping it would suffice. Maybe one day, she would see her mother again. Her sister and her brother too. That would have to be comfort enough.

"I do not think anyone here has truly told me that they are sorry for what happened to me," she sighed, looking directly into Nikolai's eyes. "Thank you, Nikolai." And she truly meant it too.

Author's Note

This story has already reached 11k reads! Thank you so much to everyone!