Tamar waited in front of the Little Palace with Nikolai and Toyla.

Tamar was there half because she was the tsar’s guard, and half because her wife-to-be was coming back from the frontlines.

All Second Army soldiers rotated between the Frontlines, different bases, and being stationed in Os Alta.

You were one of the Grisha that had been sent to the frontlines for a six-month-long deployment. Even with Tamar’s prestige as the Captain of Nikolai’s guard, she couldn’t keep you at the palace with her.

“I want to go.” You’d said, only for Tamar to shoot it down as fast as she could.

The Heartrender knew you were more than capable, she was just worried. You two had fought before you left, and Tamar had been miserable for weeks.

She had just proposed. You two were supposed to get married and grow old together. She wasn’t ready for you to leave her side to get shot at by a bunch of blonde, white men that hated everything both of you were.

Tamar wasn’t ready to face the fact that you might go on a deployment and not return. She loved you too much to handle the idea.

She remembered last night, when she’d been having a drink with Nikolai and Toyla. She’d expressed that concern to her tsar, asking how he handled it with Zoya.

He’d replied, “I don’t. But I know it’s something that she needs to do, so I just miss her.” That didn’t sit right with Tamar.

She just wanted to keep you safe.

How could she protect you if you were so far away all the time?

She supposed that probably meant that Nikolai was more well-adjusted than her.

In her defence, she’d spent her late teens up until she turned twenty working on on Strumhound- or a tailored Nikolai’s ship. That meant that she hadn’t had much, and she leaned to keep what she did have close.

So, riddled with anxiety, she stood and watched the gates lift and your carriage enter the front courtyard.

Saints, you looked as beautiful as ever. She thought as you got out and made eye contact with her.