Anya the FirstA 8 year old Anastasia Romanov skipped happily down the hallway of the castle to a huge brown wooden door. She slowly approached it, gently fixing her bright yellow dress she was currently wearing, and knocked on the door swaying back and forth impatiently for an answer.Anya the First by DeathBuster-Hana
A man with short black hair pulled up in a ponytail and a medium length beard slowly opened the door. Being twice of the tiny princess’s height he didn’t notice her until he heard her sweet innocent voice from below him and looked down.
“Hello Mister Gregory”
The man rolled his eyes slightly. She always said his name wrong it was Grigori not Gregory though he figured it was more than likely her trying to be cute and suck up to him…it surprisingly worked.
“Its Grigori my dear” He said calmly trying to not sound to irritated with the fact that he was currently in the middle of very important (And secret) work. “How can i help you my dearest butterfly” He said smiling
Goodbye's A second chanceGrigori Yefimovich Rasputin slowly woke up in a room that he did not recognize. He was laying on a bed in what he guessed was a hotel of some sort however he had no idea what had happened or how he had got there. The last thing he had remembered he was fighting that Romanov brat who had destroyed his reliquary.Goodbye's A second chance by DeathBuster-Hana
He sat up suddenly remembering those last few moments. Those blue beautiful eyes under red hair glaring at him with so much resentment as she slowly destroyed his soul before his very eyes, her hurtful last words that she said to him “Do svidanya” and last but not least his body being painfully turned into nothing more than ashes.
So the real question was…..were was he now? Was this hell? No he thought to himself it was to peaceful and calm to be hell. He slowly stood up and walked over to a mirror and jumped back at the sight he was seeing. Instead of seeing what should have been nothing more than a corpse he instead saw a man about the age of 20 with short bl
Her foot caught the vial of swirling green liquid in arch of her heel, and his maniacal laughing began to die down. What in the hell was she doing? Did she really intend to break his life force? Was she really going to kill him?
Did he really lose against a mere girl?
The swirling green became a hellish red once her foot came down upon it, cracking his beautiful marble Pegasus into bits and pieces. He thought that the boy, that stupid… stupid kitchen boy, got knocked out, but he wasn’t too terribly focused on the distraction.
Instead he was focused on her. Her pale-blue eyes. Her disheveled hair. Her determination… He noticed, for possibly the first time, how beautiful she was. He quickly dismissed the thought. Her beauty had nothing to do with the crimes of her family. She was a Romanov. And she must be dealt with…
But… it seemed he was presently at a disadvantage.
“This… is for Dimitri.” Her voice rang out like a bell, clearly in his ears, and he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts, only to be transfixed on her once again. His focus was quickly broken by the pain and panic rising in his chest. He slid forward on his knees.
“Give it back!” He demanded, the sound, he realized, coming out more like a desperate plea.
Anya slid the vial closer to her, and stared at him with that signature Romanov glare. “This is for my family.” Her foot fell harder on the vial, causing the glass to spider-crack. He grabbed onto her skirt- the material soft and completely distracting.
“I’ll tear you to pieces!” He called out, using her dress as leverage to pull himself up just a little, trying to look into her eyes- to muster up any amount of threatening gaze he still might have had.
“And this.” She began, her voice wicked with almost pleasure at his struggle. “This is for you.” She said the words like a funeral eulogy. As if those were the last words he was going to hear.
“No!” He finally said, letting go of her skirts. He managed one final, real look at her, before his attention focused on the vial, the light emitting from it bathing the stones around them in crimson light.
The glass shattered, knocking them both back. He worried, briefly, about her safety, but then was hyper-focused back into his own. Green light shot up in a towering pillar, and he felt a wail coming from his throat as the light descended upon him, ripping what was left of his body to sheds.
It wasn’t long at all before his vision went black. His consciousness being clouded and dripped away.
Rasputin was no more.
At least not in this dimension.
The interesting thing about dark magic and revenge deals is that there is always another way around your word. There is another deal to be made, another spell to cast. There is infinite time, and infinite ways to ensure that you, or at least some version of you, remains alive after you die.
The same theory could be said of legacy and memory after normal life spans, but that isn’t what we are talking about here. We are talking about something far more real. Tangible.
Grigory Rasputin, a monk, a priest, a wizard. A dangerous, and equally troubled man with demons of his own to fight, both literally and figuratively.
He didn’t expect this. Not at all. He had hoped that he would still remain in some way, but he had not expected his eyes to open. He did not expect that he would be able to raise his hands to his face, and feel the nerves under his skin. He did not expect the peachy flesh-tone that glowed in his skin. He had grown so used to living in grey-scale that he forgot what color looked like on him. What life looked like. He slowly sat up, surveying his surroundings. This was… different. He was in a modest little room, without much personal customization in it. It was quaint, cozy, and purposefully so, apparently, unfamiliar. He pushed the blanket off of his legs, and made his way shakily to the bathroom.
Upon looking in the mirror, a wide grin appeared on his lips. He remembered this face. It was a face he had not had for many… many years. The face of youth. The face of life. The face of someone who had cheated death and won.
He doubted that he was as human as he had been before his black magic deals, but he was sure that this form was enough to pass for human. He studied himself, making faces in the mirror.
He pulled up his nose, and flared his nostrils, pulled the skin under his eyes and puffed out his cheeks. He tugged on his hair and was pleased to find it attached to his skull. He cracked his knuckles, and his silly faces finally settled on a self-satisfied smirk.
He was going to have another chance to get rid of that damned Romanov.
That last thought though, the thought of revenge, did give him pause. Was he crazy? Was he really going to make the same mistakes twice?
He had failed in revenge once with Princess Anastasia, a girl he had known for most of her life, as it stood. Why would he keep trying?
He exited the bathroom, into his little room, and looked around, trying to gather where he was, and whether this was his house, or somewhere he was staying.
He opened the blinds and was greeted with the sun glinting off the freshly fallen snow in St. Petersberg, and he noticed that the light was high in the sky, signalling midday. He opened the window and heard a young newsboy yelling the date while holding up a stack of papers.
It wasn’t long after he had lost his battle with Anya, maybe a few weeks, but the whole city seemed very different. Very… Much brighter. He pursed his lips. What was going on exactly? What had he gotten himself into?
Glass clinked against the windowpane, and he looked down, noticing a leather cord around his neck that held a smaller version of his vial from before, the same snake decal decorating it. He lifted it with his fingers, to his face and peered at it. It was white this time, instead of green. And he made an approving sound.
‘This could be good…’ He thought to himself, amused by the realization that he really had used black magic to restart. He would figure out how to best use this second chance later, but first, he needed eyes on the Princess Anastasia…
Muse names and information|
GRIGORI RASPUTIN and ANYA ROMANOV
Grigori was once the greatest sorcerer in all of Russia and used to work for the wealthy family known as the Romanovs. While there he was best friends with their daughter Anastasia who would help him with his work and actually had a crush on him not that he knew this of course being so busy. Everything was going great until that her father found out that he was using dark magic/Studding it and banished him from the castle (Sure if only to be safe). Grigori after this got so angry about being banished for something as stupid as studding something new that he turned against them all together thus selling his soul to become an Immortal Lich (undead sorcerer if you don't know) and put a curse on their family to all die. The curse however also effected Anya as well. (Follow the plot to the movie Anya gets amnesia he tries to kill her that whole mess.)
SECOND CHANCE AU
Grigori as you know gets killed by Anya in the end and goes to hell. But that's just it what if instead of going to hell the reliquary sensed there was a part of him that loved Anya and gave him a second chance to make things right. What if he was sent to a time when Anya doesn't remember him and he is turned to a 20 year old lich to patch things up with her. Will he take that chance or make the same mistakes?