![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[ in stillness, he waits for questions that never come. the things that kaz thinks nikolai might ask ā that he should ā are tucked away inside. perhaps nikolai fears who might hear the answer, in his doubled mind. the moment passes.
he watches nikolaiās shadow-stained fingers fan across the bed and imagines them on his skin, testing the waters in fantasy before wading into the deep in reality. another nod, and he swings his legs onto the bed. nothing to do but adjust his loose collar and button-down when confronted with such tiny, thoughtful gestures of care. soft support at his back, warmth on his skin. although heās decided to abide such things from nikolai, he hasnāt the faintest idea how to appreciate them. thereās something unsettled ā no, unguarded in the eyes that catch nikolai peering up through fairer lashes and auburn hair, shadows only there in his mind. itās more intimacy than his dreams dare conjure, knuckles brushing his inner thigh. another vulnerability that he shouldnāt allow in the part of his legs.
stay, he says, and all kaz can think is youāll die of the proximity. it should be a simple request, but kaz finds that he has no experience in asks of this nature. no resting beyond the necessary. no waiting for anything but revenge. if his life had ended the night he ruined pekkaās, he would call the saints kind.
calloused fingers put his attribution of carefulness to the monster (not nikolai) to shame. this is the genuine article. the only light left on this whole dark earth, inviting him to share its fading warmth. awe cracks his mask, lost in looking at the miracle of nikolai lantsov until the notebook returns to his hands and jolts him back. his heart sinks as he reads the words. if it can hear, why wouldnāt it see through nikolaiās eyes ā or feel the movement of his hand? stay recurs, its meaning warped. stay to save him, to clear a path forward, and to watch him go.
he scribbles a note, as if absent-minded, before dropping the book in the space between them. say them in a way only iāll understand. a puzzle. a challenge. surely nikolai will enjoy the difficulty, despite the high stakes.
against his better judgement, kaz pulls off one glove and then the other. ]
[ with a sigh, ] Iām not any better than you at this. [ staying or indulging in stillness. all those times he told nikolai to quiet, kaz had been buzzing with the divine purpose of keeping him there. now, with the reverse in play, he finds simply holding himself in the present profoundly difficult.
he catches nikolaiās wrist, interrupting his work on the bandages, delicate fingers wrapped around blackened skin. nikolaiās pulse fails to arc into a crashing wave, so kaz traces the black lightning down his arm to his rolled sleeve. ]
Always the same tack with you. [ tending his wounds, he means. itās teasing through his hesitation. he stretches his other arm across nikolaiās chest to seek the pulse in his throat, flesh still clammy to the touch but flushing attractively as blood revitalises the paths slowed by genyaās tonic. ] Iāll clear my schedule. [ no need for anotherās hands on him, if nikolai wishes for this thankless work. strange, that nikolai should want him to accept the attention of others and place himself squarely in the path that might lead away. pleasing, too. he leans closer, closer, closest, as his hand fits under nikolaiās jaw and tips it up, just so. after the events of yesterday, he knows now that nikolai wouldnāt keep him here if he wasnāt wanted, which makes ducking to kiss him marginally less daunting. like the leap between ketterdamās buildings as opposed to the tumble over a shipās rail.
itās short ā and sweeter than heāll ever admit. sea spray flecks his skin, but thatās not so bad. warm cheeks, a quick smile, then his eyes cut away to the window. he releases nikolai and raps his fist on the notebook. ]
he watches nikolaiās shadow-stained fingers fan across the bed and imagines them on his skin, testing the waters in fantasy before wading into the deep in reality. another nod, and he swings his legs onto the bed. nothing to do but adjust his loose collar and button-down when confronted with such tiny, thoughtful gestures of care. soft support at his back, warmth on his skin. although heās decided to abide such things from nikolai, he hasnāt the faintest idea how to appreciate them. thereās something unsettled ā no, unguarded in the eyes that catch nikolai peering up through fairer lashes and auburn hair, shadows only there in his mind. itās more intimacy than his dreams dare conjure, knuckles brushing his inner thigh. another vulnerability that he shouldnāt allow in the part of his legs.
stay, he says, and all kaz can think is youāll die of the proximity. it should be a simple request, but kaz finds that he has no experience in asks of this nature. no resting beyond the necessary. no waiting for anything but revenge. if his life had ended the night he ruined pekkaās, he would call the saints kind.
calloused fingers put his attribution of carefulness to the monster (not nikolai) to shame. this is the genuine article. the only light left on this whole dark earth, inviting him to share its fading warmth. awe cracks his mask, lost in looking at the miracle of nikolai lantsov until the notebook returns to his hands and jolts him back. his heart sinks as he reads the words. if it can hear, why wouldnāt it see through nikolaiās eyes ā or feel the movement of his hand? stay recurs, its meaning warped. stay to save him, to clear a path forward, and to watch him go.
he scribbles a note, as if absent-minded, before dropping the book in the space between them. say them in a way only iāll understand. a puzzle. a challenge. surely nikolai will enjoy the difficulty, despite the high stakes.
against his better judgement, kaz pulls off one glove and then the other. ]
[ with a sigh, ] Iām not any better than you at this. [ staying or indulging in stillness. all those times he told nikolai to quiet, kaz had been buzzing with the divine purpose of keeping him there. now, with the reverse in play, he finds simply holding himself in the present profoundly difficult.
he catches nikolaiās wrist, interrupting his work on the bandages, delicate fingers wrapped around blackened skin. nikolaiās pulse fails to arc into a crashing wave, so kaz traces the black lightning down his arm to his rolled sleeve. ]
Always the same tack with you. [ tending his wounds, he means. itās teasing through his hesitation. he stretches his other arm across nikolaiās chest to seek the pulse in his throat, flesh still clammy to the touch but flushing attractively as blood revitalises the paths slowed by genyaās tonic. ] Iāll clear my schedule. [ no need for anotherās hands on him, if nikolai wishes for this thankless work. strange, that nikolai should want him to accept the attention of others and place himself squarely in the path that might lead away. pleasing, too. he leans closer, closer, closest, as his hand fits under nikolaiās jaw and tips it up, just so. after the events of yesterday, he knows now that nikolai wouldnāt keep him here if he wasnāt wanted, which makes ducking to kiss him marginally less daunting. like the leap between ketterdamās buildings as opposed to the tumble over a shipās rail.
itās short ā and sweeter than heāll ever admit. sea spray flecks his skin, but thatās not so bad. warm cheeks, a quick smile, then his eyes cut away to the window. he releases nikolai and raps his fist on the notebook. ]
Edited 2023-03-23 11:52 (UTC)
[ the puzzle should excite him, and it does pique the absurd interests of a mind hopelessly overfond of risk, but for the first time something else settles directly beside it, an uncomfortable pulse that clouds the water. to dive headfirst into a problem has always been his preference ā he thinks better under pressure ā but his world has drastically shifted in the past weeks and months, trampling half of what he's known underfoot, and the things presently of paramount importance are not the same as when he was a prince or even a king.
he's a captain again, tasked with the formal undertaking of kaz brekker. (even if he wasn't, he'd find a way to make brekker his problem.) the monster has already sussed out his weakness, the same weakness his parents and tutors discovered when they'd brought dominik to the palace. it had taken but one time for the other boy to be punished for nikolaiās folly for him to alter his behavior ā and the course of his life along with it. now, with soiled bandages strewn across the bed and the scent of blood hanging in the balmy air, there is little room for recklessness. ]
And your tack? To treat your entire life like a game of cards? [ for a moment he doesnāt recognize himself ā overly serious, overly fearful. he expels a breath, softening. ] You can hardly blame me for wanting to keep you here and feed you tiny sandwiches in bed.
[ he can see kazās hand coming and yet the touch is still unexpected, his skin warming beneath bare fingers. he surrenders to it, his point fleeing his head as he leans in, aching with a loss he canāt find the words for. when their lips brush, a thought that wonāt leave him carves itself from the edge of his mind ā had it felt the same when the monster kissed him, too? the kiss is too fleeting for him to fabricate an answer for himself, his attention drawn to the notebook, and with it, the obstacles standing before them.
his obstacles. not brekkerās. a distinction that will go over poorly, if voiced. his gaze gravitates toward kazās acerbic mouth, the memory of blood smeared across it, deceptively sweet. he braces the edge of a finger at kazās jaw to brush his thumb over his lips, tracing the shape heās come to intimately know. ]
I have your word, then. [ much easier to snare kaz brekker into his maudlin schemes without the whole of ketterdam watching. he doesnāt miss the wretched island for a second. ] That I take precedence in your schedule. I think we should plan for things the bastard of the Barrel hardly has time to indulge in. Things to occupy the mind. Like fishing and bird-watching and testing the range of explosives stored on the ship.
[ as if he has all the time in the world, as if the seconds arenāt a constant tick in the back of his mind. he picks up the pencil, tapping it on the page. say them in a way only iāll understand. he writes in an impulsive burst, only three words, and turns the notebook back into kazās hand. ]
Do you think the monster understands such a concept? [ a question to cushion the blow of what heās just written: i love you, a sentiment never expressed well between them. itās cast unfairly even now ā though true, itās meant to leave kaz out of the plans he intends to formulate in six daysā time. loosening the cuff of kazās sleeve, his fingers slip beneath fabric to wiggle awkwardly in a curious search before his face brightens and he extracts a tiny blade. ] I knew youād have one.
[ he settles his focus on his leg again, slicing carefully through the length of bandage covering the more serious wound. it takes more courage than he cares to admit to uncover it, claw marks still as bloodied as the day nikolai split his flesh, the dark stains of merzost shifting across the damage. the sunlight only makes the scene more grisly. ]
Were you afraid? [ nikolai doesnāt lift his head when he finally asks, a tender hand slipping beneath kazās knee to raise the wound toward the light. carefully, he begins cleaning the excess of blood, his scarred hands a match to kazās leg. ] When you were alone with the monster?
he's a captain again, tasked with the formal undertaking of kaz brekker. (even if he wasn't, he'd find a way to make brekker his problem.) the monster has already sussed out his weakness, the same weakness his parents and tutors discovered when they'd brought dominik to the palace. it had taken but one time for the other boy to be punished for nikolaiās folly for him to alter his behavior ā and the course of his life along with it. now, with soiled bandages strewn across the bed and the scent of blood hanging in the balmy air, there is little room for recklessness. ]
And your tack? To treat your entire life like a game of cards? [ for a moment he doesnāt recognize himself ā overly serious, overly fearful. he expels a breath, softening. ] You can hardly blame me for wanting to keep you here and feed you tiny sandwiches in bed.
[ he can see kazās hand coming and yet the touch is still unexpected, his skin warming beneath bare fingers. he surrenders to it, his point fleeing his head as he leans in, aching with a loss he canāt find the words for. when their lips brush, a thought that wonāt leave him carves itself from the edge of his mind ā had it felt the same when the monster kissed him, too? the kiss is too fleeting for him to fabricate an answer for himself, his attention drawn to the notebook, and with it, the obstacles standing before them.
his obstacles. not brekkerās. a distinction that will go over poorly, if voiced. his gaze gravitates toward kazās acerbic mouth, the memory of blood smeared across it, deceptively sweet. he braces the edge of a finger at kazās jaw to brush his thumb over his lips, tracing the shape heās come to intimately know. ]
I have your word, then. [ much easier to snare kaz brekker into his maudlin schemes without the whole of ketterdam watching. he doesnāt miss the wretched island for a second. ] That I take precedence in your schedule. I think we should plan for things the bastard of the Barrel hardly has time to indulge in. Things to occupy the mind. Like fishing and bird-watching and testing the range of explosives stored on the ship.
[ as if he has all the time in the world, as if the seconds arenāt a constant tick in the back of his mind. he picks up the pencil, tapping it on the page. say them in a way only iāll understand. he writes in an impulsive burst, only three words, and turns the notebook back into kazās hand. ]
Do you think the monster understands such a concept? [ a question to cushion the blow of what heās just written: i love you, a sentiment never expressed well between them. itās cast unfairly even now ā though true, itās meant to leave kaz out of the plans he intends to formulate in six daysā time. loosening the cuff of kazās sleeve, his fingers slip beneath fabric to wiggle awkwardly in a curious search before his face brightens and he extracts a tiny blade. ] I knew youād have one.
[ he settles his focus on his leg again, slicing carefully through the length of bandage covering the more serious wound. it takes more courage than he cares to admit to uncover it, claw marks still as bloodied as the day nikolai split his flesh, the dark stains of merzost shifting across the damage. the sunlight only makes the scene more grisly. ]
Were you afraid? [ nikolai doesnāt lift his head when he finally asks, a tender hand slipping beneath kazās knee to raise the wound toward the light. carefully, he begins cleaning the excess of blood, his scarred hands a match to kazās leg. ] When you were alone with the monster?
Edited (oop) 2023-04-04 21:30 (UTC)
[ thereās a blade hidden inside nikolaiās remark. if kaz wondered whether nikolai saw him as a puzzleā¦ does nikolai wonder if kaz sees him as a game? one youāre always losing comes the voice. he snips the thought there, a loose end to be dealt with another time.
his eyes flit sideways, assessing nikolai from a new angle. whatever he sees makes him roll his shoulders into a shrug. ]
Thatās all my life has been. [ from the moment he and jordie set foot on kerch soil, no, since their mother died and their father bloodied yellow fields. saskia only revealed the truth when she taught him the shell game. ] An orphan boy from nowhere has no prospects, let alone a divine purpose. [ not like a king or ravkaās grisha, deified into endless service. there are truths in his words for nikolai to hear, too, though he must have known them already. an orphan, surely. from nowhere, rather than ketterdamās underworld. ] At least now I know how to play.
[ itās endlessly foolish, the sort of softness nikolai uses as a distraction. promises of activities kaz knows better than to imagine. the pad of his thumb warm at his mouth, a target he doesnāt chase. kaz nods. thereās too much to lose in answering aloud. nikolai spins in another direction, then, anyway. a sudden burst of his old enthusiasm in his swift handling of the notebook and the tempting curl of his mouth, blade triumphant in his hand. kaz opens the notebook to avoid the scorch and burns his unprotected hands. saints, he has you. a kerch pigeon waiting to be plucked. warmth in his chest, his cheeks, flushed up his pale neck as he lowers his head. he wants to tear out the page and hide it on his shirt pocket. he wants to crumple it and throw it out the tiny window. kaz remembers every wonderful thing nikolai said to him yesterday, when he tried to end this (and every thing before that, though he tries to forget).
the question cuts him off. itās a game, or nikolai wants him to think it is. it takes him too long to recalibrate, hair falling in his eyes as he rereads the words again and again. his fingers follow the looping letters, too telling, before he yanks the offending hand back to his side. should write back. say it aloud. but nikolai asks him a different question. ]
[ softer, ] Not the way that you do. [ a nagging corollary: do you understand, kaz? he closes the book without writing a response and sets it aside. ] In translation, perhaps. [ from nikolaiās love, care, protect to the demonās want, mark, possess. split impulses. ] Or vicariously, through you. [ feelings in their shared mind; tender instincts trapped in jagged limbs. the demon told him as much once: a claim that it knew the depth of what nikolai lantsov felt for kaz brekker.
the sight of his wound calls yesterday into focus once more. time spent with the demon, not nikolai. the way the shadows moved over his leg last night ā no, at this very moment, in his unreliable perception. a blade or a claw slices through the bandages. nikolaiās head lowers, red or blonde. it noses along his wound in the memory. then and now, a hand fits into the hollow of his knee. the difference is in the grip. the intent. thereās only a phantom pang in the bite. the strange, stinging sensation of nikolai cleaning his wounds overtakes it. good.
suddenly light-headed, he tips back, head resting on another pillow stacked behind him. he throws an arm over his face, open sleeve rucking up, as if guarding against the sunlight filtering through the window. ]
Not as much as youād like. [ a damning answer, but an honest one. the waves scare him more than the shadows, always. one eye peaks from under his arm, a flash of blue. ] Or as much as it would, I imagine. That could be why it tore my clothes. [ the alternative reason being naked desire, made clumsy in too sharp hands. the kiss supports that theory, so he fails to mention it. ] You both know what frightens me. [ nikolai asked what truly scares him once, and his answer remains the same: losing people, losing nikolai, what happens when anyone touches him. ] Besides, we had a plan. [ time, preparation, weapons. ] It knows that Iāmā¦useful. [ feeding it thrice now, twice from his own body. a beat. ] And whatever it can feel ā it feels for me.
[ an answer tied to the first question, which is inherently linked to the second. people fear the unknown, the uncontrollable ā the monster isnāt those things, not entirely, not anymore, to kaz.
another thought: nikolai told him once that it would act when threatened, and it certainly had the first time they nearly drowned together. a new theory: would it do the same for kaz, if he were in danger? thereās no way of safely testing it. still, the demon hadnāt liked when someone else scarred him, even before kaz became a source of food and ā affection, of a kind. ]
his eyes flit sideways, assessing nikolai from a new angle. whatever he sees makes him roll his shoulders into a shrug. ]
Thatās all my life has been. [ from the moment he and jordie set foot on kerch soil, no, since their mother died and their father bloodied yellow fields. saskia only revealed the truth when she taught him the shell game. ] An orphan boy from nowhere has no prospects, let alone a divine purpose. [ not like a king or ravkaās grisha, deified into endless service. there are truths in his words for nikolai to hear, too, though he must have known them already. an orphan, surely. from nowhere, rather than ketterdamās underworld. ] At least now I know how to play.
[ itās endlessly foolish, the sort of softness nikolai uses as a distraction. promises of activities kaz knows better than to imagine. the pad of his thumb warm at his mouth, a target he doesnāt chase. kaz nods. thereās too much to lose in answering aloud. nikolai spins in another direction, then, anyway. a sudden burst of his old enthusiasm in his swift handling of the notebook and the tempting curl of his mouth, blade triumphant in his hand. kaz opens the notebook to avoid the scorch and burns his unprotected hands. saints, he has you. a kerch pigeon waiting to be plucked. warmth in his chest, his cheeks, flushed up his pale neck as he lowers his head. he wants to tear out the page and hide it on his shirt pocket. he wants to crumple it and throw it out the tiny window. kaz remembers every wonderful thing nikolai said to him yesterday, when he tried to end this (and every thing before that, though he tries to forget).
the question cuts him off. itās a game, or nikolai wants him to think it is. it takes him too long to recalibrate, hair falling in his eyes as he rereads the words again and again. his fingers follow the looping letters, too telling, before he yanks the offending hand back to his side. should write back. say it aloud. but nikolai asks him a different question. ]
[ softer, ] Not the way that you do. [ a nagging corollary: do you understand, kaz? he closes the book without writing a response and sets it aside. ] In translation, perhaps. [ from nikolaiās love, care, protect to the demonās want, mark, possess. split impulses. ] Or vicariously, through you. [ feelings in their shared mind; tender instincts trapped in jagged limbs. the demon told him as much once: a claim that it knew the depth of what nikolai lantsov felt for kaz brekker.
the sight of his wound calls yesterday into focus once more. time spent with the demon, not nikolai. the way the shadows moved over his leg last night ā no, at this very moment, in his unreliable perception. a blade or a claw slices through the bandages. nikolaiās head lowers, red or blonde. it noses along his wound in the memory. then and now, a hand fits into the hollow of his knee. the difference is in the grip. the intent. thereās only a phantom pang in the bite. the strange, stinging sensation of nikolai cleaning his wounds overtakes it. good.
suddenly light-headed, he tips back, head resting on another pillow stacked behind him. he throws an arm over his face, open sleeve rucking up, as if guarding against the sunlight filtering through the window. ]
Not as much as youād like. [ a damning answer, but an honest one. the waves scare him more than the shadows, always. one eye peaks from under his arm, a flash of blue. ] Or as much as it would, I imagine. That could be why it tore my clothes. [ the alternative reason being naked desire, made clumsy in too sharp hands. the kiss supports that theory, so he fails to mention it. ] You both know what frightens me. [ nikolai asked what truly scares him once, and his answer remains the same: losing people, losing nikolai, what happens when anyone touches him. ] Besides, we had a plan. [ time, preparation, weapons. ] It knows that Iāmā¦useful. [ feeding it thrice now, twice from his own body. a beat. ] And whatever it can feel ā it feels for me.
[ an answer tied to the first question, which is inherently linked to the second. people fear the unknown, the uncontrollable ā the monster isnāt those things, not entirely, not anymore, to kaz.
another thought: nikolai told him once that it would act when threatened, and it certainly had the first time they nearly drowned together. a new theory: would it do the same for kaz, if he were in danger? thereās no way of safely testing it. still, the demon hadnāt liked when someone else scarred him, even before kaz became a source of food and ā affection, of a kind. ]
Edited (shhh) 2023-04-10 04:24 (UTC)
[ it stalls his mind, the sudden truth dropped into his lap, something he suspects may not easily come around again. of course an orphan. no one to protect him or his brother. an orphan from where? the pieces fall together with startling clarity, the random bits of knowledge even a boy scraped together from the streets of the barrel has no business knowing. ]
You're from ā a farmstead. [ a better puzzle to put together than the misery of his shadow, though kaz may not agree. he leans in like a fox scenting blood, but his mouth curls slightly in rapt, kindly fascination. ] Is that why you stole ā apologies, acquired ā that painting? Is that why you have so much senseless knowledge about cleaning leather?
[ he waits for kaz to tell him he's wrong ā even if he did, he'd be lying, that's how sure nikolai is of himself ā and returns his attention to the wound, trying not to think of a much smaller kaz chasing chickens through the yard. his pleasant thoughts are interrupted when his own scars creep across his skin as in response to the proximity of the darkness clinging to kaz's leg. it's a cold reminder of what he's dealing with, and his dwindling days. ]
I could see through its eyes. Before. [ there's a whole lifetime of secrets kept too close to his chest that perhaps he should have shared with kaz before this moment. especially if the demon is intent on spilling his own truths for him. ] I could set it free from my body and ā control it, to an extent. I always did it quietly, under the cover of darkness, until... I let it loose in the middle of the war, and it didn't go over so well with the rest of the council. As you know. And I've kept it caged ever since. Or ā tried to. [ he works again without looking up, his fingers carefully spreading genya's tincture over every bit of injured flesh. a hunger grows in him as he does, which he bites back with no small amount of fortitude.
lightly ā ] I knew what it would cost me. But Ravka's independence is worth more than a crown and certainly more than a king's life. And yet I would be a lying man if I said there hasn't been a bit of festering resentment between my shadow and I since then. And I can't very well let it out now if it's going to murder and maim and otherwise cause havoc in my mostly good name, and especially not if it's set its sights on you. Itās clearlyā¦ grown attached. To you. Vicariously, though me.
[ a shadow cast on his every desire, now. justifiable cause to second guess every action. he wipes his hands, giving the tincture time to work even if all he wants is to cover the wound as quickly as possible as if he can erase the dark evidence of his crimes. shadows pulse in the fractures down his hand, and he longs for a pair of gloves.
recalibrate. his eyes settle on kaz, guilt tightening in his chest. dapples of bright sunlight turn his skin nearly white, like bone. nikolai scoots up, curling his fingers gently around kazās to coax his arm away, and when the light catches his gaze itās brighter than the clearest blue skies. perfect sailing weather. ]
I donāt want you to be reckless with the monster. [ of course kaz doesnāt fear it like he should, even after everything. even with the scent of blood hanging heavily in the salted air. the flimsy excuse of we had a plan is, frankly, laughable. with his other hand, he grazes his knuckles down the line of kazās temple, his cheek, mindful not to bother his leg even as he nestles close ā slow movements. his fingers wind carefully through his dark hair, as if he can soothe away his painful ministrations. ] But I canāt think of anything worse than you being afraid of me.
[ a silly thing to say ā there are a hundred worse things. and yet the thought lingers in the darkest alleys of his mind. his hand slips to the sharp cut of kazās cheek, this time to rest his palm against warm skin, his thumb grazing over the shadows beneath his eye. helpless, his gaze flickers to kazās mouth. you both know what frightens me. so then ā ]
Did it frighten you ā [ something weighs down his words, hushed, as if he despises asking. despises that he needs to. the memory of blood across kazās mouth, and that sinking feeling in his stomach, holds him taut. ] When the monster kissed you?
You're from ā a farmstead. [ a better puzzle to put together than the misery of his shadow, though kaz may not agree. he leans in like a fox scenting blood, but his mouth curls slightly in rapt, kindly fascination. ] Is that why you stole ā apologies, acquired ā that painting? Is that why you have so much senseless knowledge about cleaning leather?
[ he waits for kaz to tell him he's wrong ā even if he did, he'd be lying, that's how sure nikolai is of himself ā and returns his attention to the wound, trying not to think of a much smaller kaz chasing chickens through the yard. his pleasant thoughts are interrupted when his own scars creep across his skin as in response to the proximity of the darkness clinging to kaz's leg. it's a cold reminder of what he's dealing with, and his dwindling days. ]
I could see through its eyes. Before. [ there's a whole lifetime of secrets kept too close to his chest that perhaps he should have shared with kaz before this moment. especially if the demon is intent on spilling his own truths for him. ] I could set it free from my body and ā control it, to an extent. I always did it quietly, under the cover of darkness, until... I let it loose in the middle of the war, and it didn't go over so well with the rest of the council. As you know. And I've kept it caged ever since. Or ā tried to. [ he works again without looking up, his fingers carefully spreading genya's tincture over every bit of injured flesh. a hunger grows in him as he does, which he bites back with no small amount of fortitude.
lightly ā ] I knew what it would cost me. But Ravka's independence is worth more than a crown and certainly more than a king's life. And yet I would be a lying man if I said there hasn't been a bit of festering resentment between my shadow and I since then. And I can't very well let it out now if it's going to murder and maim and otherwise cause havoc in my mostly good name, and especially not if it's set its sights on you. Itās clearlyā¦ grown attached. To you. Vicariously, though me.
[ a shadow cast on his every desire, now. justifiable cause to second guess every action. he wipes his hands, giving the tincture time to work even if all he wants is to cover the wound as quickly as possible as if he can erase the dark evidence of his crimes. shadows pulse in the fractures down his hand, and he longs for a pair of gloves.
recalibrate. his eyes settle on kaz, guilt tightening in his chest. dapples of bright sunlight turn his skin nearly white, like bone. nikolai scoots up, curling his fingers gently around kazās to coax his arm away, and when the light catches his gaze itās brighter than the clearest blue skies. perfect sailing weather. ]
I donāt want you to be reckless with the monster. [ of course kaz doesnāt fear it like he should, even after everything. even with the scent of blood hanging heavily in the salted air. the flimsy excuse of we had a plan is, frankly, laughable. with his other hand, he grazes his knuckles down the line of kazās temple, his cheek, mindful not to bother his leg even as he nestles close ā slow movements. his fingers wind carefully through his dark hair, as if he can soothe away his painful ministrations. ] But I canāt think of anything worse than you being afraid of me.
[ a silly thing to say ā there are a hundred worse things. and yet the thought lingers in the darkest alleys of his mind. his hand slips to the sharp cut of kazās cheek, this time to rest his palm against warm skin, his thumb grazing over the shadows beneath his eye. helpless, his gaze flickers to kazās mouth. you both know what frightens me. so then ā ]
Did it frighten you ā [ something weighs down his words, hushed, as if he despises asking. despises that he needs to. the memory of blood across kazās mouth, and that sinking feeling in his stomach, holds him taut. ] When the monster kissed you?
[ naturally, nikolai solves his puzzle with scant clues in hand. itās information that no one else picked up in the last decade ā or if they did, they knew better than to examine it and voice their conclusions aloud. kaz tells himself that it costs nothing to reveal this, though he knows that cutting off these pieces of himself and offering them to nikolai is dangerous. ]
Mm. [ a hesitation for show, eye memorising every angle of nikolaiās delighted face. kaz resists the sudden urge to kiss his clever smile and shutters his gaze. itās the only way to keep from mutilating himself further. a farmstead in lij, he might say, if he kept looking at nikolaiās warm eyes and perfect mouth. i bought it back for no reason other than sentiment. come see it, as if kaz has ever dared return to the place. maybe he could, if nikolai were with him.
blessedly, nikolai reorients them in space and time before he can suggest a return to the past. the moment that he mentions the demon, kaz opens his eyes and locks them on nikolai. this isnāt something he knew, but it fits with what he assumed after observing the steel heist. it aligns with the monsterās version of events, too. a time when it was useful, abruptly severed by the loss of nikolaiās crown and higher purpose. his thoughts splinter and scatter under the tinctureās burn, and he noses into his arm. it would have been kinder, perhaps, if nikolai had been allowed to die for his country. or if zoya could find a space for him now ā but the demon complicates everything.
beneath the pain, he wonders: there must have been events prior to this, a place where nikolai first fought the creature until he could gain control. thatās where they should go.
when nikolaiās careful, aching hands end their work, kaz peeks out from under his wrist again, the crow and cup on his arm reflecting the light. just in time to see nikolai come close. a day ago, this wasnāt possible, and the awe widens his features, unprotected as nikolai guides his arm down. he pushes back without intent, squeezing nikolaiās fingers because he can ā because this isnāt a dream, shattering from the slightest movement.
he tips his cheek into nikolaiās other hand, more cat than crow. strange, to feel new instincts forming in real time. a lean toward, not away. heat and icy cold in those charred fingers, salt on his skin. as nikolai settles a hand in his hair, he sighs without thinking. his other hand finds nikolaiās hip, sliding under his rumpled shirt to the low hollow of his spine. ]
I couldnāt be. [ afraid, not of nikolai. even at the start, before this fatal entanglement, he told nikolai that no violence could frighten him away. not since he crawled out of the canal. ] Itās you. [ a safe harbour. a trap. someone who will no doubt hurt him, because thatās what happens when you allow anyone within striking range.
a flicker of uncertainty, at the next question. being open the way nikolai is ā thatās more frightening than the demon or the depths. thereās no telling what kaz might unearth in himself, if he dug into nikolaiās cracked layers. ]
No. [ no winning answer here, only a true one. he drops his head into the crook of nikolaiās shoulder, something like an apology in the act. a hard swallow. nikolaiās breath is a hot, live thing in his ear. a snarl of nerves settles at the base of his spine. could he ever tire of this? no, not after a lifetime of starvation. could nikolai? parts of it, surely, with his old hurts that threaten to rot. a finger taps against the back of nikolaiās hand, still held captive in his own, and he looses a heavy exhale. ] But it frightened you. [ thatās what kaz ought to beg forgiveness for. ]
Thereās no guarantee of future compliance, I know that, but last night ā it said it wouldnāt hurt anyone else. [ only you. no hunting to concern themselves with, despite the clock ticking away. ] It stopped when I asked. [ the memory bursts to the forefront of his mind, the silent assessment in its cold gaze. ] Thatās when it ā [ he clears his throat. ] The only time it kissed me. [ that night. ] And then it gave you back. [ mouth red and slick in the aftermath. ] So itās okay. Weāre ā okay.
Mm. [ a hesitation for show, eye memorising every angle of nikolaiās delighted face. kaz resists the sudden urge to kiss his clever smile and shutters his gaze. itās the only way to keep from mutilating himself further. a farmstead in lij, he might say, if he kept looking at nikolaiās warm eyes and perfect mouth. i bought it back for no reason other than sentiment. come see it, as if kaz has ever dared return to the place. maybe he could, if nikolai were with him.
blessedly, nikolai reorients them in space and time before he can suggest a return to the past. the moment that he mentions the demon, kaz opens his eyes and locks them on nikolai. this isnāt something he knew, but it fits with what he assumed after observing the steel heist. it aligns with the monsterās version of events, too. a time when it was useful, abruptly severed by the loss of nikolaiās crown and higher purpose. his thoughts splinter and scatter under the tinctureās burn, and he noses into his arm. it would have been kinder, perhaps, if nikolai had been allowed to die for his country. or if zoya could find a space for him now ā but the demon complicates everything.
beneath the pain, he wonders: there must have been events prior to this, a place where nikolai first fought the creature until he could gain control. thatās where they should go.
when nikolaiās careful, aching hands end their work, kaz peeks out from under his wrist again, the crow and cup on his arm reflecting the light. just in time to see nikolai come close. a day ago, this wasnāt possible, and the awe widens his features, unprotected as nikolai guides his arm down. he pushes back without intent, squeezing nikolaiās fingers because he can ā because this isnāt a dream, shattering from the slightest movement.
he tips his cheek into nikolaiās other hand, more cat than crow. strange, to feel new instincts forming in real time. a lean toward, not away. heat and icy cold in those charred fingers, salt on his skin. as nikolai settles a hand in his hair, he sighs without thinking. his other hand finds nikolaiās hip, sliding under his rumpled shirt to the low hollow of his spine. ]
I couldnāt be. [ afraid, not of nikolai. even at the start, before this fatal entanglement, he told nikolai that no violence could frighten him away. not since he crawled out of the canal. ] Itās you. [ a safe harbour. a trap. someone who will no doubt hurt him, because thatās what happens when you allow anyone within striking range.
a flicker of uncertainty, at the next question. being open the way nikolai is ā thatās more frightening than the demon or the depths. thereās no telling what kaz might unearth in himself, if he dug into nikolaiās cracked layers. ]
No. [ no winning answer here, only a true one. he drops his head into the crook of nikolaiās shoulder, something like an apology in the act. a hard swallow. nikolaiās breath is a hot, live thing in his ear. a snarl of nerves settles at the base of his spine. could he ever tire of this? no, not after a lifetime of starvation. could nikolai? parts of it, surely, with his old hurts that threaten to rot. a finger taps against the back of nikolaiās hand, still held captive in his own, and he looses a heavy exhale. ] But it frightened you. [ thatās what kaz ought to beg forgiveness for. ]
Thereās no guarantee of future compliance, I know that, but last night ā it said it wouldnāt hurt anyone else. [ only you. no hunting to concern themselves with, despite the clock ticking away. ] It stopped when I asked. [ the memory bursts to the forefront of his mind, the silent assessment in its cold gaze. ] Thatās when it ā [ he clears his throat. ] The only time it kissed me. [ that night. ] And then it gave you back. [ mouth red and slick in the aftermath. ] So itās okay. Weāre ā okay.
[ he would much rather linger on the subject of kaz brekker's upbringing ā and he will return to it, when the timing is right, as if their timing has ever been right ā but the monster pulls his focus. he should have covered the wound. if he examines the hunger creeping through him with a sharper focus, however loathe he is to think of doing such a thing, it isn't the pull of blood that has the monster caught. it's the way kaz leans into him now, his slow and careful surrender, his cautiously eager hand tethered to nikolai's spine.
there are wheels spinning in brekker's head, and that's what the monster can't see. if he could reach into his scheming brain and put a stop to the noise, he gladly would. ]
I wonder about that. [ a doubt he doesn't want to give voice to. he wants to go back to planning out their imaginary mornings and nights. his thumb touches the corner of his mouth again, a hazy echo of a blood-slick kiss edging into his mind. ] If you have it wrong. If it isnāt me.
[ a bit of wishful thinking, perhaps. the monster is me. his acceptance has wound its way back to denial, and all it took to shift the terrain was kaz brekker. but the implication isnāt an easy one when it throws everything into shadow, even this moment, as he wonders if he isnāt giving the monster exactly what it wants. impossible, that the thing truly cares for brekker. but the fact that heās alive and more or less in one piece before him now paints a different truth when nikolai has woken to the monsterās carnage again and again.
how would he rather have it? for the monster to devour him down to the bone instead? itās a problem he canāt work out, or maybe it just feels like too much of a mockery to accept. with great reluctance, he draws his hands away to reach for the strips of bandage to wrap kazās leg. ]
I know you, Brekker. [ he can hear it in his voice ā the reasoning, the excuses, the desperation to pry open a door that isnāt there. theyāre both scrambling for time. ] Youāre trying to play two hands at once. You canāt manufacture this kind of luck.
[ carefully, he winds the cloth around his leg. itās a relief when he can discard the soiled bandages and clear the bed of medical supplies, falling back into the pretense of fair skies and a pleasantly churning sea taking them far away from responsibility. if only he could kick his unwanted guest out of the room just as easily. ]
And you believe the monster when it makes such claims? That it wonāt hurt anyone else? And you can somehow control it where all others have fallen short. [ where nikolai has fallen short. it hangs unspoken. ] Itās the height of arrogance. [ like believing that his kingship would be the one to fix all that no one else could with his wretched country. he sweeps the covers over kazās legs and pilfers one of the enormous pillows supporting his back, tossing it away so kaz sinks to the mattress, nikolai caging him in with a blackened hand braced beside the dark tousle of his hair. ] Youāre just like me.
[ all of his reckless, spirited ambition lives in kaz, only translated differently ā carefully planned, coldly calculated. but there is no end to it. no end to the schemes, nothing his mind canāt overcome with a strategic gamble. same as you. but the monster changes everything. itās far too late for nikolai to confess that the day he stitched kaz up on his ship should have been the only time he entertained the notion that the sky could live in a boyās eyes. ]
Do you take no caution from my tale? [ his gaze flickers, alight with a dozen conflicting responses ā unrest, the hardened edge of anger, fear. affection shimmers above the rest, hopelessly entangled in the cadence of his heart ā yours or the monsterās? itās a doubt he promptly casts away, but it leaves an echo all the same. his hand trails down to lift the hem of kazās shirt, palm settling at the scrapes from the last time heād taken kaz to the water. ] Youāre being a fool, and you need to fold.
[ his hand moves again, this time to slide along kazās arm, ghosting over his wrist and stopping to press his fingers to the center of his palm, where heād split his skin open on a rock. he covers his hand, twining their fingers together and squeezing tight as he lowers his forehead to kazās sternum, releasing a breath into the hollow of his throat. ]
It already has me. [ a miserable thought. ] It canāt have you, too.
there are wheels spinning in brekker's head, and that's what the monster can't see. if he could reach into his scheming brain and put a stop to the noise, he gladly would. ]
I wonder about that. [ a doubt he doesn't want to give voice to. he wants to go back to planning out their imaginary mornings and nights. his thumb touches the corner of his mouth again, a hazy echo of a blood-slick kiss edging into his mind. ] If you have it wrong. If it isnāt me.
[ a bit of wishful thinking, perhaps. the monster is me. his acceptance has wound its way back to denial, and all it took to shift the terrain was kaz brekker. but the implication isnāt an easy one when it throws everything into shadow, even this moment, as he wonders if he isnāt giving the monster exactly what it wants. impossible, that the thing truly cares for brekker. but the fact that heās alive and more or less in one piece before him now paints a different truth when nikolai has woken to the monsterās carnage again and again.
how would he rather have it? for the monster to devour him down to the bone instead? itās a problem he canāt work out, or maybe it just feels like too much of a mockery to accept. with great reluctance, he draws his hands away to reach for the strips of bandage to wrap kazās leg. ]
I know you, Brekker. [ he can hear it in his voice ā the reasoning, the excuses, the desperation to pry open a door that isnāt there. theyāre both scrambling for time. ] Youāre trying to play two hands at once. You canāt manufacture this kind of luck.
[ carefully, he winds the cloth around his leg. itās a relief when he can discard the soiled bandages and clear the bed of medical supplies, falling back into the pretense of fair skies and a pleasantly churning sea taking them far away from responsibility. if only he could kick his unwanted guest out of the room just as easily. ]
And you believe the monster when it makes such claims? That it wonāt hurt anyone else? And you can somehow control it where all others have fallen short. [ where nikolai has fallen short. it hangs unspoken. ] Itās the height of arrogance. [ like believing that his kingship would be the one to fix all that no one else could with his wretched country. he sweeps the covers over kazās legs and pilfers one of the enormous pillows supporting his back, tossing it away so kaz sinks to the mattress, nikolai caging him in with a blackened hand braced beside the dark tousle of his hair. ] Youāre just like me.
[ all of his reckless, spirited ambition lives in kaz, only translated differently ā carefully planned, coldly calculated. but there is no end to it. no end to the schemes, nothing his mind canāt overcome with a strategic gamble. same as you. but the monster changes everything. itās far too late for nikolai to confess that the day he stitched kaz up on his ship should have been the only time he entertained the notion that the sky could live in a boyās eyes. ]
Do you take no caution from my tale? [ his gaze flickers, alight with a dozen conflicting responses ā unrest, the hardened edge of anger, fear. affection shimmers above the rest, hopelessly entangled in the cadence of his heart ā yours or the monsterās? itās a doubt he promptly casts away, but it leaves an echo all the same. his hand trails down to lift the hem of kazās shirt, palm settling at the scrapes from the last time heād taken kaz to the water. ] Youāre being a fool, and you need to fold.
[ his hand moves again, this time to slide along kazās arm, ghosting over his wrist and stopping to press his fingers to the center of his palm, where heād split his skin open on a rock. he covers his hand, twining their fingers together and squeezing tight as he lowers his forehead to kazās sternum, releasing a breath into the hollow of his throat. ]
It already has me. [ a miserable thought. ] It canāt have you, too.
[ quelling every instinct to debate, kaz listens as nikolai outlines his perspective. itās a lecture, a warning, an admission of defeat ā concern and care wrapped around it, with doubt as the overriding sentiment. every dismissal of his plans and cleverness rankles. jesper and inej wouldnāt feel the same, he tells himself, because theyāve seen him accomplish the impossible (and the truly horrible).
iām not like you. when ketterdam ground him down to the bone, he could have made himself softer. like wylan. better. like nikolai. could have contented himself with the safety of being a dreg without striving for more, but he refused ā and for what? not the good of a people and a country. for revenge. the darkling forced monstrosity on nikolai, but kaz chose to become dirtyhands at every turn, brick by brick.
the thought distracts him fully as nikolai steals his support and cages him in, a whorl of nerves zipping down his spine. pleasant and unpleasant as always, wading into the waters for this confounding man. is this closeness a warning or an invitation? ]
I need to fold ā [ jaw angled up in challenge, braced for the next punch. ] Or you need me to?
[ because he canāt abide having kaz in the table stakes.
bending his good leg, kaz brackets nikolaiās hip but makes no other move. at once, he realises that beyond nikolaiās confessed refusal to allow him to meet with the monster again ā he also has no interest in working alongside kaz to manage the situation in any capacity. leading the demon away from destruction suddenly seems preferable to convincing nikolai lantsov of anything. eyes slanted, he winds his free hand into nikolaiās hair, dragging through burnished strands down to his neck. ]
Nikolai. [ uttered slowly, into the crown his head, in the hopes of halting his downward spiral. with kazās leg bandaged, nikolai chases old wounds. something to preoccupy his hands, telling of what consumes his mind. measured, then ā ] I know I canāt trust it or control it.
[ and if he wonāt be controlled? the demonās low timbre echoes in his ear. perhaps theyāre more alike than either man or demon thinks. after all, how long has kaz been telling nikolai this? you canāt keep people; theyāre not things. even the demon has its own mind. the illusion of control is a riptide in the harbour. he dropped a dime lion into the black water once and watched their body give out in minutes, damned by exhaustion. the more you fight, the faster you drown.
the brekker play has always been to find the nearest lever and pull. you canāt control what someone else wants, but you can be the one to withhold or extend it, to endanger or protect it. thatās the game of leverage. ]
But we both know what it wants. [ life and sustenance, chiefly. kaz brekker, somehow. to touch, kiss, bite in places that have only ever belonged to nikolai. a nonstarter, if it werenāt already too late. ] And every want is a waypoint. [ to guide their manoeuvres. itās not control, to keep a hand on the wheel. itās reading the tides and adjusting their course.
itās like this: he slips his fingers from nikolaiās hair to fan at his cheek, then gently grip his jaw and tilt it up, just so. a catch in his throat, forever his tell. wonder slips through the open set of his eyes before his mouth quirks to the side. thereāll be no convincing nikolai of his theories and half-formed plans today. with a week to go, thatās not the most pressing tangle in nikolaiās head. not for kaz. ]
If you know me at all, then you know youāre the only one who can have me. [ he stretches their linked hands up, still pliant against the bedspread. testing, perhaps, in how he draws nikolai upward. kaz would counter that the demon doesnāt even have nikolai, seeing as it requires his services in brokering a truce, but thatās not the important thing to prove now. ] Do you think Iād kneel for anyone else? For another captain? A king? [ brows arching, a blade-like glint in his eyes. ] A saint or a monster? [ a laugh thatās half air. ] Please. Not for all the gold in the world.
[ now, thereās the arrogance. ]
iām not like you. when ketterdam ground him down to the bone, he could have made himself softer. like wylan. better. like nikolai. could have contented himself with the safety of being a dreg without striving for more, but he refused ā and for what? not the good of a people and a country. for revenge. the darkling forced monstrosity on nikolai, but kaz chose to become dirtyhands at every turn, brick by brick.
the thought distracts him fully as nikolai steals his support and cages him in, a whorl of nerves zipping down his spine. pleasant and unpleasant as always, wading into the waters for this confounding man. is this closeness a warning or an invitation? ]
I need to fold ā [ jaw angled up in challenge, braced for the next punch. ] Or you need me to?
[ because he canāt abide having kaz in the table stakes.
bending his good leg, kaz brackets nikolaiās hip but makes no other move. at once, he realises that beyond nikolaiās confessed refusal to allow him to meet with the monster again ā he also has no interest in working alongside kaz to manage the situation in any capacity. leading the demon away from destruction suddenly seems preferable to convincing nikolai lantsov of anything. eyes slanted, he winds his free hand into nikolaiās hair, dragging through burnished strands down to his neck. ]
Nikolai. [ uttered slowly, into the crown his head, in the hopes of halting his downward spiral. with kazās leg bandaged, nikolai chases old wounds. something to preoccupy his hands, telling of what consumes his mind. measured, then ā ] I know I canāt trust it or control it.
[ and if he wonāt be controlled? the demonās low timbre echoes in his ear. perhaps theyāre more alike than either man or demon thinks. after all, how long has kaz been telling nikolai this? you canāt keep people; theyāre not things. even the demon has its own mind. the illusion of control is a riptide in the harbour. he dropped a dime lion into the black water once and watched their body give out in minutes, damned by exhaustion. the more you fight, the faster you drown.
the brekker play has always been to find the nearest lever and pull. you canāt control what someone else wants, but you can be the one to withhold or extend it, to endanger or protect it. thatās the game of leverage. ]
But we both know what it wants. [ life and sustenance, chiefly. kaz brekker, somehow. to touch, kiss, bite in places that have only ever belonged to nikolai. a nonstarter, if it werenāt already too late. ] And every want is a waypoint. [ to guide their manoeuvres. itās not control, to keep a hand on the wheel. itās reading the tides and adjusting their course.
itās like this: he slips his fingers from nikolaiās hair to fan at his cheek, then gently grip his jaw and tilt it up, just so. a catch in his throat, forever his tell. wonder slips through the open set of his eyes before his mouth quirks to the side. thereāll be no convincing nikolai of his theories and half-formed plans today. with a week to go, thatās not the most pressing tangle in nikolaiās head. not for kaz. ]
If you know me at all, then you know youāre the only one who can have me. [ he stretches their linked hands up, still pliant against the bedspread. testing, perhaps, in how he draws nikolai upward. kaz would counter that the demon doesnāt even have nikolai, seeing as it requires his services in brokering a truce, but thatās not the important thing to prove now. ] Do you think Iād kneel for anyone else? For another captain? A king? [ brows arching, a blade-like glint in his eyes. ] A saint or a monster? [ a laugh thatās half air. ] Please. Not for all the gold in the world.
[ now, thereās the arrogance. ]
[ with the steady hum of the ocean beneath them and kaz's warmth against him, it's tempting to allow himself to drift into fantasy. after slipping between so many tattered identities, navigating from one life to another as the years wore on, what's one more tacked upon a slew of dozens? sturmhond the captain, his last refuge that hasn't been ā publicly ā tainted by the demon. but this version of sturmhond isn't the wildly reckless criminal (all allegations, no proof) of his youth ā still roguish and cocksure, always, but now he has something to protect. someone. it feels decidedly different from fighting for a country's independence. ]
Can't it be both? [ he needs to. nikolai needs him to. kaz's life is too valuable to toss around like bartering chips. would he barter with someone else's life, confident that he could both save them and win? likely so. but these aren't his terms, nor was this his idea. the tricky little bastard had shut him out of that step. ] It can be both.
[ in the quiet between them drifts words unspoken but understood. nikolaiās resistance to relinquishing his burden when it means dropping the danger squarely upon kazās shoulders grows with every passing moment, a storm brewing in his chest. he knows better than anyone that to fight the tide means to drown, but in many ways heās not so different from kaz at all. heās had to fight for everything ā for attention, for respect, for his throne, for his country, for his sanity. he knows nothing else but to arm himself with courage and a smile that most days he barely feels.
it wants you is his protest, a truth caught fast in his throat. nikolai has never wanted to be that domineering, possessive captain or king, his private jealousies always kept by the wayside. he has never had anything but an excess of gilded materialism to hold onto. not since dominik. he thought he mightāve had alina, once. foolishness. then zoya, his gloriously spiteful and steady anchor, and that somehow had turned out even worse. (will the thought never cease to sting? inconclusive.) but now there is someone, gravely complicating every action, every decision, every fumbling step forward.
kaz pulls his gaze, and nikolai is rewarded with a near-smile, such a rare and dazzling sight that his heart finds space amid all the growing tension to expand, aching. ]
I know you wouldnāt. [ his trust floods back, having never fled far in the first place. it isnāt kaz he doesnāt trust. he follows the trajectory of kazās hand, holding fast, and brushes his lips to the apple of his cheek. he could shirk his duties and stay here. he can do anything he wants, away from ravka. a fantasy. the days, hours, minutes slipping away from him clash like thunder through his mind. another thought: has he helped brekker, or ruined him for any other that might come after heās gone? ] Youāre so confident you can win a fight Iāve been losing for years.
[ the fact that heās still alive ā and still more or less sound of mind ā tells a different story, but it hardly feels like winning. not with his back pressed to a corner, his time bought with kazās own blood. ]
We donāt always choose what brings us to our knees. [ ravka. the monster. kaz brekker, from the moment heād unburdened himself of his private truths when kaz had been nothing more than a fascinating acquaintance whoād taught him the trick of a lock. his mouth catches the corner of kazās eye, dark lashes brushing the side of his lips as he makes his way to his temple, then his forehead. when he draws back to sit up, he settles a hand atop kazās knee, gently stroking down the side of his good leg. he still hasnāt untangled their fingers, now drawn together over kazās rumpled shirt. ]
Youāre the job. Not me. The whole crew knows it. [ a rueful smile pulls at his mouth as he gives a good-natured shrug. ] Well, they donāt know the reason you need to get to Fjerda, not the real one, but they all think that youāve hired me for some very important and no doubt criminally bloody business, and Iāve told them that your safe passage comes before anything. And donāt get any funny ideas, Brekker. Youāre just the money. Iām still the captain.
[ his downward gaze remains carefully bright, his thumb stroking restlessly along every bit of bare skin he can reach from their twined hands. the scent of blood is fading, but the longing thrum, the ache, is not. ]
We have plenty of time before the monster calls on either of us again. [ plenty being highly relative. the lie rolls easily from his tongue as he leans in, sturmhondās collection of gaudy gold necklaces swinging to narrowly miss kazās chin. ] I can think of several ways to pass it. Like the reading of academic texts on the history of fishing boats and their effects on sea life. Itāll put you right to sleep, which is what you need even though you make for a rather fetching corpse. You may now have the floor to chafe at my concerns.
Can't it be both? [ he needs to. nikolai needs him to. kaz's life is too valuable to toss around like bartering chips. would he barter with someone else's life, confident that he could both save them and win? likely so. but these aren't his terms, nor was this his idea. the tricky little bastard had shut him out of that step. ] It can be both.
[ in the quiet between them drifts words unspoken but understood. nikolaiās resistance to relinquishing his burden when it means dropping the danger squarely upon kazās shoulders grows with every passing moment, a storm brewing in his chest. he knows better than anyone that to fight the tide means to drown, but in many ways heās not so different from kaz at all. heās had to fight for everything ā for attention, for respect, for his throne, for his country, for his sanity. he knows nothing else but to arm himself with courage and a smile that most days he barely feels.
it wants you is his protest, a truth caught fast in his throat. nikolai has never wanted to be that domineering, possessive captain or king, his private jealousies always kept by the wayside. he has never had anything but an excess of gilded materialism to hold onto. not since dominik. he thought he mightāve had alina, once. foolishness. then zoya, his gloriously spiteful and steady anchor, and that somehow had turned out even worse. (will the thought never cease to sting? inconclusive.) but now there is someone, gravely complicating every action, every decision, every fumbling step forward.
kaz pulls his gaze, and nikolai is rewarded with a near-smile, such a rare and dazzling sight that his heart finds space amid all the growing tension to expand, aching. ]
I know you wouldnāt. [ his trust floods back, having never fled far in the first place. it isnāt kaz he doesnāt trust. he follows the trajectory of kazās hand, holding fast, and brushes his lips to the apple of his cheek. he could shirk his duties and stay here. he can do anything he wants, away from ravka. a fantasy. the days, hours, minutes slipping away from him clash like thunder through his mind. another thought: has he helped brekker, or ruined him for any other that might come after heās gone? ] Youāre so confident you can win a fight Iāve been losing for years.
[ the fact that heās still alive ā and still more or less sound of mind ā tells a different story, but it hardly feels like winning. not with his back pressed to a corner, his time bought with kazās own blood. ]
We donāt always choose what brings us to our knees. [ ravka. the monster. kaz brekker, from the moment heād unburdened himself of his private truths when kaz had been nothing more than a fascinating acquaintance whoād taught him the trick of a lock. his mouth catches the corner of kazās eye, dark lashes brushing the side of his lips as he makes his way to his temple, then his forehead. when he draws back to sit up, he settles a hand atop kazās knee, gently stroking down the side of his good leg. he still hasnāt untangled their fingers, now drawn together over kazās rumpled shirt. ]
Youāre the job. Not me. The whole crew knows it. [ a rueful smile pulls at his mouth as he gives a good-natured shrug. ] Well, they donāt know the reason you need to get to Fjerda, not the real one, but they all think that youāve hired me for some very important and no doubt criminally bloody business, and Iāve told them that your safe passage comes before anything. And donāt get any funny ideas, Brekker. Youāre just the money. Iām still the captain.
[ his downward gaze remains carefully bright, his thumb stroking restlessly along every bit of bare skin he can reach from their twined hands. the scent of blood is fading, but the longing thrum, the ache, is not. ]
We have plenty of time before the monster calls on either of us again. [ plenty being highly relative. the lie rolls easily from his tongue as he leans in, sturmhondās collection of gaudy gold necklaces swinging to narrowly miss kazās chin. ] I can think of several ways to pass it. Like the reading of academic texts on the history of fishing boats and their effects on sea life. Itāll put you right to sleep, which is what you need even though you make for a rather fetching corpse. You may now have the floor to chafe at my concerns.
[ it canāt be both. because kaz canāt bear to lose nikolai. and he can no longer remove himself from the situation, even if he wanted to, after inviting the demon into his veins. there can be no retreat from this maze, thorny knots and tangles ensnaring them at every turn. the only way out is through.
and the only acceptable result is to win.
despite his protests, nikolai wonāt leave. not today. not right now. his hand squeezes tighter, and he presses closer, lips brushing his cheek. a shudder, then, at the aching tenderness of the act or the words that precede it. i know you wouldnāt. kaz has been telling himself he doesnāt need nikolaiās trust or faith but, well ā having it rattles that falsehood until it comes loose. a bluff. heās confident because he can win. he needs to win. and nikolai needs to start believing in him ā or he needs to earn back that belief after proving himself undeserving in ravka and kerch.
for a moment, he allows himself the illusion of having accomplished that already, with nikolai gifting him a reverent sort of affection. kaz closes his eyes, savouring it until it ends, like always. ]
Oh, I neednāt waste my time. [ complaining or bickering, when nikolai has already made his move. youāre the job sparks a hundred new tactics, fizzing with possibilities. he hooks two fingers on nikolaiās necklaces. they both leave the other out of their schemes. itās an irritation dulled by nikolai touching him freely again, perhaps for the first time since he arrived in ketterdam: dragging a heat trail up his leg, otherwise cool in the cabin air; still holding his fingers tight while grazing the soft skin of his stomach, under his wrinkled shirt. like he canāt get enough of these vulnerable places. kaz would bleed and bleed and bleed, if nikolai cut him there.
slanting his gaze at nikolai from a new angle, assessing, he counters dryly ā ]
As the money ā and the prize, apparently. [ to be protected, at all costs. a ridiculous idea. surely even nikolaiās crew donāt view him as something that needs shepherding. more likely heās the subject of suspicion, jealousy, disdain or dispassion. a curiosity that their captain entertains. no doubt his crew will have questions about this cover as well, whispered at the first opportunity, though itās not unusual for him to leave them in the dark.
his touch follows the chains to their latches at nikolaiās neck, and he considers unhooking them just to be a nuisance. a more rewarding idea supplants it, with kaz pulling nikolai down to meet him in the middle. his lips brush the corner of nikolaiās mouth, careful and intent. impossible not to be greedy for this intimacy, for nikolai. only a kiss would be ā the very thing he invited from the demon and confessed to allowing a second time, if not desiring it outright. wont to invoke their shadow, kaz chases the pulse in nikolaiās throat instead. a scrape of teeth suggests he might match the marks left on his neck, though theyāre not what he thinks of now. the bite at his thigh pangs fresh. wildly intimate. he would press the crescent until it bled anew, if nikolai werenāt here. he grasps nikolaiās collar between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it away to kiss an apology where his neck meets his shoulder. ]
[ leaning back, ] Iām not particularly tired. [ their twined hands shift lower on his hip, knuckles brushing the waistband of his underwear. ] But I can find a way to exhaust myself, if you want to leave me in your bed so badly. [ after waking from that wretched dream, with nikolai corpselike beside him, itās a laughable suggestion. yet he carries the lie and its roguish implications. nikolaiās performative disposition is catching. (and what good would it do to share his nightmares with nikolai? the manās drowning in his own.) ]
Then you can ā tie knots? Haul the anchor? [ important captain business, far more interesting than whatever kaz brekker might get up to in his room, in his bed. he pulls his hand away from nikolaiās person, folding it behind his head, as if making himself comfortable. ] Keep watch at the foot of the bed, sobachka? [ ensuring his safe passage above all else. ridiculous. there are genuine questions hidden inside this teasing: how close will nikolai linger in their remaining six days? and how does nikolai mean to navigate the final night? when the monster expects blood ā and theyāve weeks to go before this ājobā ends in fjerda. ] Iād hate to distract the captain from his duties.
and the only acceptable result is to win.
despite his protests, nikolai wonāt leave. not today. not right now. his hand squeezes tighter, and he presses closer, lips brushing his cheek. a shudder, then, at the aching tenderness of the act or the words that precede it. i know you wouldnāt. kaz has been telling himself he doesnāt need nikolaiās trust or faith but, well ā having it rattles that falsehood until it comes loose. a bluff. heās confident because he can win. he needs to win. and nikolai needs to start believing in him ā or he needs to earn back that belief after proving himself undeserving in ravka and kerch.
for a moment, he allows himself the illusion of having accomplished that already, with nikolai gifting him a reverent sort of affection. kaz closes his eyes, savouring it until it ends, like always. ]
Oh, I neednāt waste my time. [ complaining or bickering, when nikolai has already made his move. youāre the job sparks a hundred new tactics, fizzing with possibilities. he hooks two fingers on nikolaiās necklaces. they both leave the other out of their schemes. itās an irritation dulled by nikolai touching him freely again, perhaps for the first time since he arrived in ketterdam: dragging a heat trail up his leg, otherwise cool in the cabin air; still holding his fingers tight while grazing the soft skin of his stomach, under his wrinkled shirt. like he canāt get enough of these vulnerable places. kaz would bleed and bleed and bleed, if nikolai cut him there.
slanting his gaze at nikolai from a new angle, assessing, he counters dryly ā ]
As the money ā and the prize, apparently. [ to be protected, at all costs. a ridiculous idea. surely even nikolaiās crew donāt view him as something that needs shepherding. more likely heās the subject of suspicion, jealousy, disdain or dispassion. a curiosity that their captain entertains. no doubt his crew will have questions about this cover as well, whispered at the first opportunity, though itās not unusual for him to leave them in the dark.
his touch follows the chains to their latches at nikolaiās neck, and he considers unhooking them just to be a nuisance. a more rewarding idea supplants it, with kaz pulling nikolai down to meet him in the middle. his lips brush the corner of nikolaiās mouth, careful and intent. impossible not to be greedy for this intimacy, for nikolai. only a kiss would be ā the very thing he invited from the demon and confessed to allowing a second time, if not desiring it outright. wont to invoke their shadow, kaz chases the pulse in nikolaiās throat instead. a scrape of teeth suggests he might match the marks left on his neck, though theyāre not what he thinks of now. the bite at his thigh pangs fresh. wildly intimate. he would press the crescent until it bled anew, if nikolai werenāt here. he grasps nikolaiās collar between his thumb and forefinger, tugging it away to kiss an apology where his neck meets his shoulder. ]
[ leaning back, ] Iām not particularly tired. [ their twined hands shift lower on his hip, knuckles brushing the waistband of his underwear. ] But I can find a way to exhaust myself, if you want to leave me in your bed so badly. [ after waking from that wretched dream, with nikolai corpselike beside him, itās a laughable suggestion. yet he carries the lie and its roguish implications. nikolaiās performative disposition is catching. (and what good would it do to share his nightmares with nikolai? the manās drowning in his own.) ]
Then you can ā tie knots? Haul the anchor? [ important captain business, far more interesting than whatever kaz brekker might get up to in his room, in his bed. he pulls his hand away from nikolaiās person, folding it behind his head, as if making himself comfortable. ] Keep watch at the foot of the bed, sobachka? [ ensuring his safe passage above all else. ridiculous. there are genuine questions hidden inside this teasing: how close will nikolai linger in their remaining six days? and how does nikolai mean to navigate the final night? when the monster expects blood ā and theyāve weeks to go before this ājobā ends in fjerda. ] Iād hate to distract the captain from his duties.
You're rather valuable these days. Maybe worth more than the going rate of a king in his prime. [ effectively caught, he doesn't fight the drag of his own chains and is rewarded for his good behavior with the most tender of kisses. it's almost odd to be kissed like this, like a thing revered. he was a thing more or less revered, only he had to keep himself just out of the range of intimacy for his entire kingship for fear of turning any such companion into his next meal.
touch is still not a thing he plans to take for granted anytime soon, and he seizes the opportunity to take part, relinquishing his hold on kaz's hand only to smooth his palm along the cut of his hip, flicking the edge of his shirttails away to curl his fingers into the band of his underwear. ]
You would throw down a gauntlet and then tell me to go haul the anchor? [ trepidation makes way for a smile, his shadow briefly forgotten. all he feels in this moment must be his alone, for how achingly familiar it is. ] I'll have you know, Brekker, that you can't drop an anchor into the open sea. It would never reach the seabed. [ important things to note. with kaz settled smugly upon the pillows, nikolai takes the opportunity to slip lower, pressing his lips to the flat of his stomach. ] However, in case we run into a storm and can't make port ā if the Saints truly forsake us, an extremely likely scenario ā we would drop a drogue in the hopes that we might stay straight on. Then you might see me haul something.
[ a wash of desire spills over him despite his babbling. he nudges at kaz's uninjured leg to spread his thighs, his mouth hovering but not making contact. his mind slowly, regrettably, catches up. is he giving the monster what it wants? nikolai himself wants this urgently enough that he wishes badly not to care. a slow breath eases out of him, coin pendants and gaudy jewels pooling in the fork of kaz's thighs as he gazes up, sliding his fingers out of his waistband. ]
So, show me. [ he traces his thumb along the soft outline of kaz's cock in a gentle up and down motion, but doesn't press further. doubt edges into his heart, a slow poison. not fast enough to kill him yet. without thinking, his hand settles at kaz's bandaged thigh, his fingertips resting directly above where the demon's fangs penetrated yielding flesh. heat suffuses his skin, from want. from hunger. he shakes the latter away, a quickening thrum filling his senses that he abruptly realizes is kaz's fluttering pulse. he lets out a huff of breath between a laugh and a sigh. ] Since the prize is so confident now. Show me what you would do.
touch is still not a thing he plans to take for granted anytime soon, and he seizes the opportunity to take part, relinquishing his hold on kaz's hand only to smooth his palm along the cut of his hip, flicking the edge of his shirttails away to curl his fingers into the band of his underwear. ]
You would throw down a gauntlet and then tell me to go haul the anchor? [ trepidation makes way for a smile, his shadow briefly forgotten. all he feels in this moment must be his alone, for how achingly familiar it is. ] I'll have you know, Brekker, that you can't drop an anchor into the open sea. It would never reach the seabed. [ important things to note. with kaz settled smugly upon the pillows, nikolai takes the opportunity to slip lower, pressing his lips to the flat of his stomach. ] However, in case we run into a storm and can't make port ā if the Saints truly forsake us, an extremely likely scenario ā we would drop a drogue in the hopes that we might stay straight on. Then you might see me haul something.
[ a wash of desire spills over him despite his babbling. he nudges at kaz's uninjured leg to spread his thighs, his mouth hovering but not making contact. his mind slowly, regrettably, catches up. is he giving the monster what it wants? nikolai himself wants this urgently enough that he wishes badly not to care. a slow breath eases out of him, coin pendants and gaudy jewels pooling in the fork of kaz's thighs as he gazes up, sliding his fingers out of his waistband. ]
So, show me. [ he traces his thumb along the soft outline of kaz's cock in a gentle up and down motion, but doesn't press further. doubt edges into his heart, a slow poison. not fast enough to kill him yet. without thinking, his hand settles at kaz's bandaged thigh, his fingertips resting directly above where the demon's fangs penetrated yielding flesh. heat suffuses his skin, from want. from hunger. he shakes the latter away, a quickening thrum filling his senses that he abruptly realizes is kaz's fluttering pulse. he lets out a huff of breath between a laugh and a sigh. ] Since the prize is so confident now. Show me what you would do.
[ kaz has been valuable for a time, by some definitions. the most important member of haskellās crew, even when he lay on the sofa in his office with a broken leg. none but his prized, frightening lieutenant would have received such a treatment. now, thereās the twenty million kruge bounty on his head, whispered across the underworld. neither reflects nikolaiās view of him. a thing to be held, shielded from the oncoming storms and changing tides. despite all kazās scheming, thereās no dissuading him of this belief.
and when it leads to nikolai, smiling just for him and kissing those tender places, he chafes against it less. this, at least, heās grown to understand, though itās no less destabilising. his stuttered breath interrupts nikolaiās chatter.
there must be a bruise on his hip, from the demonās grip (that nikolai would deem carelessness but kaz thinks of as something more sinister, marking). kaz forces a shaky inhale as nikolai touches him through his underwear and asks him to make good on his threat. his own wants unspool, heat coursing through him.
itās nikolai, he tells himself. itās always nikolai ā but he settles between kazās thighs just like the night before and caresses the demonās mark. an unreadable expression crosses his face, pupils dark and unfocused. the line between man and monster is thinner than either thinks, even in idle movements. kaz covers nikolaiās hand with his own and pushes it into the bandaged skin until he feels the burn. the pleasure-pain of touching a fresh bruise. surely no one has ever looked at him like this, want cutting through sandy lashes. not at all like last night, with nothingness reflected in the black gaze before him.
eyes rapt on nikolai, his pulse speeds up. ]
You must have an idea. [ of what he might do on his own. kaz knows the answer is yes: that for all the nights that they drove each other away, nikolai still managed to think of him. a boy whose wanting is without end.
theyāre as different in this as they are in all things, however ā kaz wonders if in nikolaiās fantasies, he moves quickly and doggedly, like nikolai does in life, kissing as fast as he talks. in reality, heās measured, meticulous, but then nikolai knows that, too, having been on the receiving end of his patience. lifting his hand away from nikolaiās, he grinds into the heel of his palm, slow and easy. it occurs to him that nikolai wonāt like that he canāt see, not really. ]
So, youāll have to tell me how I compare. [ to the fantasy. that imagined kaz is surely a simpler creature to manage than this one, trading one demand for another. he peels down his underwear until the bunched fabric meets nikolaiās hand on his thigh, cock halfway hard. a flush creeps under his hiked shirt, rucked higher up his chest by his shifts. heās nowhere near the nerves of the first time but perhaps this is the closest ā with nikolai watching. itās overwhelming enough that he momentarily forgets why he was hesitant at all, absorbed by the idea of meeting this challenge. kaz gets a hand around himself and strokes steadily, grateful for the relief and distraction. a hissed breath through his teeth, eyes shuttering and then slitting. could go on like this, but nikolai is there ā a practiced twist of his wrist, and he sighs.
kaz hitches himself up on his elbows, leverage enough to use his other hand to catch nikolaiās jaw. two fingers rest against his lips, a blatant request. ]
Suppose Iād normally do this part, too, but ā [ his shoulders bunch in a shrug. thereās a wry edge to his usual scrape, pushing through his uneven breaths. youāre here. kaz presses his fingers into nikolaiās mouth, curling against his tongue. ]
and when it leads to nikolai, smiling just for him and kissing those tender places, he chafes against it less. this, at least, heās grown to understand, though itās no less destabilising. his stuttered breath interrupts nikolaiās chatter.
there must be a bruise on his hip, from the demonās grip (that nikolai would deem carelessness but kaz thinks of as something more sinister, marking). kaz forces a shaky inhale as nikolai touches him through his underwear and asks him to make good on his threat. his own wants unspool, heat coursing through him.
itās nikolai, he tells himself. itās always nikolai ā but he settles between kazās thighs just like the night before and caresses the demonās mark. an unreadable expression crosses his face, pupils dark and unfocused. the line between man and monster is thinner than either thinks, even in idle movements. kaz covers nikolaiās hand with his own and pushes it into the bandaged skin until he feels the burn. the pleasure-pain of touching a fresh bruise. surely no one has ever looked at him like this, want cutting through sandy lashes. not at all like last night, with nothingness reflected in the black gaze before him.
eyes rapt on nikolai, his pulse speeds up. ]
You must have an idea. [ of what he might do on his own. kaz knows the answer is yes: that for all the nights that they drove each other away, nikolai still managed to think of him. a boy whose wanting is without end.
theyāre as different in this as they are in all things, however ā kaz wonders if in nikolaiās fantasies, he moves quickly and doggedly, like nikolai does in life, kissing as fast as he talks. in reality, heās measured, meticulous, but then nikolai knows that, too, having been on the receiving end of his patience. lifting his hand away from nikolaiās, he grinds into the heel of his palm, slow and easy. it occurs to him that nikolai wonāt like that he canāt see, not really. ]
So, youāll have to tell me how I compare. [ to the fantasy. that imagined kaz is surely a simpler creature to manage than this one, trading one demand for another. he peels down his underwear until the bunched fabric meets nikolaiās hand on his thigh, cock halfway hard. a flush creeps under his hiked shirt, rucked higher up his chest by his shifts. heās nowhere near the nerves of the first time but perhaps this is the closest ā with nikolai watching. itās overwhelming enough that he momentarily forgets why he was hesitant at all, absorbed by the idea of meeting this challenge. kaz gets a hand around himself and strokes steadily, grateful for the relief and distraction. a hissed breath through his teeth, eyes shuttering and then slitting. could go on like this, but nikolai is there ā a practiced twist of his wrist, and he sighs.
kaz hitches himself up on his elbows, leverage enough to use his other hand to catch nikolaiās jaw. two fingers rest against his lips, a blatant request. ]
Suppose Iād normally do this part, too, but ā [ his shoulders bunch in a shrug. thereās a wry edge to his usual scrape, pushing through his uneven breaths. youāre here. kaz presses his fingers into nikolaiās mouth, curling against his tongue. ]
[ the tenuous excitement of this moment isn't unfamiliar, but there's a new sort of caution that holds nikolai steady where he might have once tested a boundary out of his own eagerness. that he doesn't know the minute details of his shadow's encounter hasn't been forgotten. despite his seemingly casual reservation, he watches kaz with the sun's intensity, but can't seem to break through the clouds surrounding kaz's gaze, turning his dark eyes impenetrable. there could be a hundred different reasons for it, and his mind begins the fevered task of shuffling through each one.
touch brings him back. it takes him several belated moments to realize he's bearing down on kaz's bite, that there's no blood but there is a heat emanating against the palm of his hand that he should not be quite so aware of. his expression falters, uncharacteristic of him. you must have an idea, and saints, he does, but he valiantly tries not to think of it, because nothing in his mind feels safe anymore. nothing feels like it belongs just to him. heās a moment from pulling his hand away when kaz pushes fabric against his fingers instead, and, instinctively, he lifts kazās hips from the bed and slips his underwear down the length of his legs, tossing it aside. so much for stopping anything, when kaz started this with what could have been a thoughtless comment and nikolai stubbornly took the bait. ]
It doesnāt compare. Not to you. [ not to the sight before him, the private intimacy of this action, the absolute recklessness that kaz doesnāt think to hold a gun to his head while he strokes himself. maybe he does think it. hopefully he at least thinks it. ] I canāt contain you to a dream.
[ not for lack of trying. he canāt contain him at all, because kaz brekker will do what kaz brekker wants, and nikolai can despair to the ends of the earth and it wonāt change a thing. a new thought emerges when kazās fingers drop like cold brimstone to his lips: he wouldnāt want to. a softly muffled breath, as his tongue meets kazās fingertips. how has he earned this? only the saints know.
he begins to say something ā amazing that i didnāt have to tell you to ask ā only it comes out completely unintelligible, and a man can only be expected to hold still for so long. kazās pulse flutters rapidly beneath his grip when he takes his wrist, extracting his fingers from his mouth only after theyāre thoroughly soaked, and guides his hand away. ]
Let me. [ he sinks down between the fork of his legs, his breath cascading over his flushed cock. careful hands slide across kazās thighs, his eager mouth kissing along soft skin. his lashes flutter to view kaz rosy as a plucked flower against the pillows. is this what the monster had seen? is he giving it what it wants? he pushes forward and takes kaz in his mouth, his eyes pressing shut, one hand braced gently beneath his injured leg. he wants this, and he wants to say they shouldnāt do this again until ā until what? until he has a better handle on himself, which could be in six days, or it could be never.
his other hand skates along his side in subconscious gravitation to grip the bruise at his hip hard enough to darken it. under the sunās shifting rays, itās hard to tell whether the fragments of black that live beneath nikolaiās skin spread anew or if itās a simple trick of the light. his mouth works in unyielding ministrations, cognizant of the rise and fall of kazās breath, of how close he is to a precipice ā and pulling off when heās nearly there, agile fingers replacing the heat of his mouth. he slinks up, reddened lips catching kazās mouth in an insistent kiss, a new kind of desperation behind it. ]
People arenāt things. Youāre always telling me that. [ kaz will never be his; kaz will never be anyoneās. itās a lesson nikolai never thought to learn. his hand moves between them in firm, practiced strokes, relentless. ] But I need something to make me theirs. [ to live for himself is a foreign, meaningless concept. thereās always been a war, a country, a cause. ] Something that isnāt my monster.
[ you. he nearly says it, but his tongue slips into kazās warm, willing mouth instead, swallowing the word. ]
touch brings him back. it takes him several belated moments to realize he's bearing down on kaz's bite, that there's no blood but there is a heat emanating against the palm of his hand that he should not be quite so aware of. his expression falters, uncharacteristic of him. you must have an idea, and saints, he does, but he valiantly tries not to think of it, because nothing in his mind feels safe anymore. nothing feels like it belongs just to him. heās a moment from pulling his hand away when kaz pushes fabric against his fingers instead, and, instinctively, he lifts kazās hips from the bed and slips his underwear down the length of his legs, tossing it aside. so much for stopping anything, when kaz started this with what could have been a thoughtless comment and nikolai stubbornly took the bait. ]
It doesnāt compare. Not to you. [ not to the sight before him, the private intimacy of this action, the absolute recklessness that kaz doesnāt think to hold a gun to his head while he strokes himself. maybe he does think it. hopefully he at least thinks it. ] I canāt contain you to a dream.
[ not for lack of trying. he canāt contain him at all, because kaz brekker will do what kaz brekker wants, and nikolai can despair to the ends of the earth and it wonāt change a thing. a new thought emerges when kazās fingers drop like cold brimstone to his lips: he wouldnāt want to. a softly muffled breath, as his tongue meets kazās fingertips. how has he earned this? only the saints know.
he begins to say something ā amazing that i didnāt have to tell you to ask ā only it comes out completely unintelligible, and a man can only be expected to hold still for so long. kazās pulse flutters rapidly beneath his grip when he takes his wrist, extracting his fingers from his mouth only after theyāre thoroughly soaked, and guides his hand away. ]
Let me. [ he sinks down between the fork of his legs, his breath cascading over his flushed cock. careful hands slide across kazās thighs, his eager mouth kissing along soft skin. his lashes flutter to view kaz rosy as a plucked flower against the pillows. is this what the monster had seen? is he giving it what it wants? he pushes forward and takes kaz in his mouth, his eyes pressing shut, one hand braced gently beneath his injured leg. he wants this, and he wants to say they shouldnāt do this again until ā until what? until he has a better handle on himself, which could be in six days, or it could be never.
his other hand skates along his side in subconscious gravitation to grip the bruise at his hip hard enough to darken it. under the sunās shifting rays, itās hard to tell whether the fragments of black that live beneath nikolaiās skin spread anew or if itās a simple trick of the light. his mouth works in unyielding ministrations, cognizant of the rise and fall of kazās breath, of how close he is to a precipice ā and pulling off when heās nearly there, agile fingers replacing the heat of his mouth. he slinks up, reddened lips catching kazās mouth in an insistent kiss, a new kind of desperation behind it. ]
People arenāt things. Youāre always telling me that. [ kaz will never be his; kaz will never be anyoneās. itās a lesson nikolai never thought to learn. his hand moves between them in firm, practiced strokes, relentless. ] But I need something to make me theirs. [ to live for himself is a foreign, meaningless concept. thereās always been a war, a country, a cause. ] Something that isnāt my monster.
[ you. he nearly says it, but his tongue slips into kazās warm, willing mouth instead, swallowing the word. ]
[ The skies rumble on their own volition today, clouds blinking out any light from the sun and darkening the skies to almost night. On these days, she doesn't need to sing. The pride of men makes their own path towards death. She doesn't need to serenade them laughing as they fall prey to her song. They become so intoxicated by her. And as they come closer, thinking they'll find pert breasts and the legendary warmth they ascribe to the place between the legs of their women lost on the rocks, she calls in a storm she's hidden from over the horizon. Her song gives way to the deafening clap of thunder when the sky is split by lightening.
Zoya usually delights when it's nature alone rather than the pieces of the storms she calls together to massacre the sailors that threaten her domain. It's as if the ocean herself decides to step in to protect her children from the intruders who think to tame the seas in flimsy wooden ships. They are like toys, play smashing them into the rocks and scattering bodies among the ocean.
Usually. That's what Zoya usually does, when the flimsy wooden ship on the crest of the immeasurable swells usually does not bear the name Volkvolny. It is not usually the home that carries the golden-haired sailor that leapt from the deck to dive into the depths and cut her free from the net that trailed behind a royal vessel.
It is the the urgent need to become karmically square, a rapidly narrowing window of opportunity to make his favor whole that churns in her chest, surely. What other explanation would there be for the bold beating of her blood as she dives expertly through the waves? Certainly it is not panic, nor alarm, nor anything as silly as concern for a drowning sailor.
The Storm Witch is powerful, but she is not without her faults. She can call storms with ease, but dismissing them has never been a power that suited her and her wrath. She could not swim fast enough to have the storm trail her and give mercy to the whole of the ship's sailors. It is too late, when the ocean tosses the ship into the sharp rocks and men are thrown to their death.
It takes the whole of her strength to push through the churning swells that seem determined to keep Zoya from exercising any mercy. She crashes through the surface of the water without her usual grace, her head snapping to search among the bodies in a way that could, by someone thoroughly mistaken, be described as frantic. Her wrists snap sharply, forcing the water to swell in concentrated waves, flipping the bodies of men who lay bloated and breathless in watery graves.
He is still upright, struggling and grasping for breath and energy to continue treading water hundreds of feet away. He will not be conscious by the time she reaches him. She could draw him close on a wave, but she risks intercepting one of nature's roiling swells. She dives swiftly, surfacing behind him and hooking her arms underneath his. She propels them towards the uninhabited island, focusing only on the race of time and survival.
The storm has devolved into a pitiful drizzle on the shallow shores of the island. She grunts as she drags him ashore, her tail slapping gracelessly at the sand as she crawls far enough up that water does not threaten to to smother his nose and mouth. She has to tend to his heart and his lungs. First, she presses her lips to his, forcing air down his throat, an odd deviation from the way she usually tugs it. She does it again, and then once more, but his pulse doesn't beat. No matter how much air she pushes into his lungs it does not matter.
Steeling herself, she has to call on the one thing wilder than her. The hair on her neck stands tall, sensing the crackling of a dangerous long shot possibility. Curling her tail away from the water, she braces herself to call lightning down from the skies into the center of his chest. ]
Zoya usually delights when it's nature alone rather than the pieces of the storms she calls together to massacre the sailors that threaten her domain. It's as if the ocean herself decides to step in to protect her children from the intruders who think to tame the seas in flimsy wooden ships. They are like toys, play smashing them into the rocks and scattering bodies among the ocean.
Usually. That's what Zoya usually does, when the flimsy wooden ship on the crest of the immeasurable swells usually does not bear the name Volkvolny. It is not usually the home that carries the golden-haired sailor that leapt from the deck to dive into the depths and cut her free from the net that trailed behind a royal vessel.
It is the the urgent need to become karmically square, a rapidly narrowing window of opportunity to make his favor whole that churns in her chest, surely. What other explanation would there be for the bold beating of her blood as she dives expertly through the waves? Certainly it is not panic, nor alarm, nor anything as silly as concern for a drowning sailor.
The Storm Witch is powerful, but she is not without her faults. She can call storms with ease, but dismissing them has never been a power that suited her and her wrath. She could not swim fast enough to have the storm trail her and give mercy to the whole of the ship's sailors. It is too late, when the ocean tosses the ship into the sharp rocks and men are thrown to their death.
It takes the whole of her strength to push through the churning swells that seem determined to keep Zoya from exercising any mercy. She crashes through the surface of the water without her usual grace, her head snapping to search among the bodies in a way that could, by someone thoroughly mistaken, be described as frantic. Her wrists snap sharply, forcing the water to swell in concentrated waves, flipping the bodies of men who lay bloated and breathless in watery graves.
He is still upright, struggling and grasping for breath and energy to continue treading water hundreds of feet away. He will not be conscious by the time she reaches him. She could draw him close on a wave, but she risks intercepting one of nature's roiling swells. She dives swiftly, surfacing behind him and hooking her arms underneath his. She propels them towards the uninhabited island, focusing only on the race of time and survival.
The storm has devolved into a pitiful drizzle on the shallow shores of the island. She grunts as she drags him ashore, her tail slapping gracelessly at the sand as she crawls far enough up that water does not threaten to to smother his nose and mouth. She has to tend to his heart and his lungs. First, she presses her lips to his, forcing air down his throat, an odd deviation from the way she usually tugs it. She does it again, and then once more, but his pulse doesn't beat. No matter how much air she pushes into his lungs it does not matter.
Steeling herself, she has to call on the one thing wilder than her. The hair on her neck stands tall, sensing the crackling of a dangerous long shot possibility. Curling her tail away from the water, she braces herself to call lightning down from the skies into the center of his chest. ]
[ in the end, it's his own choice to die. the demon that resides within him howls louder than the tempest that batters his ship and claims his crew, but sheer force of will ā or bravery, or stupidity, or cowardice ā keeps him human. keeps him sane. it keeps him lucid enough to see the darkened skies and unforgiving seas, his final glimpses of life. it's fitting, really, for an errant prince who'd run away to make the ocean his home to find a watery grave. at least his monster will die with him.
death turns out to be short-lived. and, maybe as punishment for his woeful lack of prayers to the saints over the years, shockingly painful.
he comes to with hard sand beneath his back and a live current pulsing hot through his body. the response is immediate ā he turns over and expels seawater from his stomach or his lungs, he doesn't know which. his heart beats an irregular staccato, his chest throbbing in agony. too weak to hold himself upright, he sinks face first onto the shore ā only it isn't a mouthful of sand he catches, but shining waves of dark hair and soft, damp skin. his green-gold eyes turn blearily skyward, burning bright with fever. ]
You. [ his voice is a hoarse rasp, recognition hitting him like a dead weight. his heart already feels fit to burst; he isn't sure he can take much more. ] Saints, I must be dead.
[ or having a very vivid episode whilst in the throes of certain death. it's the only way she could be here now, impossibly strong, impossibly real. nikolai shudders, vacillating between a fiery heat and unbearable cold, his golden hair curling against his clammy skin. through his wet, torn clothes, colorful ink sprawls across his skin, sea snakes and firebirds and magnificent ships tattooed over a sculpted chest and down muscular arms ā and there, commemorated on his right bicep, is the siren he saved from a ship of poachers, the same dark hair and full mouth and glittering blue scales that sit before him now. he'd learned her name only through an obsessive hunt for answers that spanned nearly six months. ]
Zoya. [ he reaches weakly for her, his hand finding the slope of her waist, tangling into a fistful of her hair. his fingers are like ice, his lips tinged blue as he takes shallow breaths. still, somehow, his expression eases despite his dire state. ] I've been looking for you.
[ he burrows into her exquisite neck, a delirious huff of something akin to a laugh escaping him. perhaps this isn't death. but he's certain if he lets go, it will be the end for him. ]
death turns out to be short-lived. and, maybe as punishment for his woeful lack of prayers to the saints over the years, shockingly painful.
he comes to with hard sand beneath his back and a live current pulsing hot through his body. the response is immediate ā he turns over and expels seawater from his stomach or his lungs, he doesn't know which. his heart beats an irregular staccato, his chest throbbing in agony. too weak to hold himself upright, he sinks face first onto the shore ā only it isn't a mouthful of sand he catches, but shining waves of dark hair and soft, damp skin. his green-gold eyes turn blearily skyward, burning bright with fever. ]
You. [ his voice is a hoarse rasp, recognition hitting him like a dead weight. his heart already feels fit to burst; he isn't sure he can take much more. ] Saints, I must be dead.
[ or having a very vivid episode whilst in the throes of certain death. it's the only way she could be here now, impossibly strong, impossibly real. nikolai shudders, vacillating between a fiery heat and unbearable cold, his golden hair curling against his clammy skin. through his wet, torn clothes, colorful ink sprawls across his skin, sea snakes and firebirds and magnificent ships tattooed over a sculpted chest and down muscular arms ā and there, commemorated on his right bicep, is the siren he saved from a ship of poachers, the same dark hair and full mouth and glittering blue scales that sit before him now. he'd learned her name only through an obsessive hunt for answers that spanned nearly six months. ]
Zoya. [ he reaches weakly for her, his hand finding the slope of her waist, tangling into a fistful of her hair. his fingers are like ice, his lips tinged blue as he takes shallow breaths. still, somehow, his expression eases despite his dire state. ] I've been looking for you.
[ he burrows into her exquisite neck, a delirious huff of something akin to a laugh escaping him. perhaps this isn't death. but he's certain if he lets go, it will be the end for him. ]
( cont. )
you don't need to sneak your way into favors, brekker. you've done enough for me that you need only ask. but if that sort of thing verges on the discomforts of true honesty, i'm sure you've already thought of a dozen ways to blackmail me. can i have those blueprints back that you nicked? they're of no use to you and very useful to me.
aren't we? friends.
oh, i'm afraid it's impossible to divert attention from myself. i steal all eyes in any room i enter. it's the curse of a tragically handsome face. i've been bearing it my whole life.
( cont. )
i suppose you would know, since you've made it your personal mission to be a shadow over many a lantsov king's shoulder. tradition says it's your turn to perch on mine, but unfortunately for everyone, my reign has been highly unconventional.
the aviary was my idea. zoya wanted to play with your lungs until they burst like overripe melons on a hot summer day. however, i thought it would be very unfair to make anyone clean up such a mess.
It amuses me that you think I had much of a say when it comes to shadowing the Lantsov line. You should really be thanking your ancestors for that. Though, I will admit, your reign has been by far my favorite if I had to compare them to your predecessors.
Lucky me to get the more pleasant option between captivity or being a playtoy. At least the latter would've proved to be more entertaining than staring at metal and glass for hours on end.
Lucky me to get the more pleasant option between captivity or being a playtoy. At least the latter would've proved to be more entertaining than staring at metal and glass for hours on end.
Oh, thereās nothing I need to do, itās just prudent to have options. And as in most things, I suspect that uselessness and usefulness really falls somewhere in the middle. You can have the blueprints back, however. One look is always enough for me.
As long as you donāt pen a poem about it. Good poetry will always come first in my heart.
Iāll learn the violin to play a sad song just for you. Youāve learned how to make the attention work in your favor well enough. Which isnāt the same thing as always enjoying it, granted. Iām not sure enjoying it is what matters, though.
As long as you donāt pen a poem about it. Good poetry will always come first in my heart.
Iāll learn the violin to play a sad song just for you. Youāve learned how to make the attention work in your favor well enough. Which isnāt the same thing as always enjoying it, granted. Iām not sure enjoying it is what matters, though.
i won't purport that the lantsov line was ever populated with good men, and i won't make excuses for my father. neither will i claim the falsehood that your actions were ever justifiable. the blame might have been rotting for generations, but it falls on my shoulders to bear it. my gratitude for that.
zoya is not so forgiving. you should be thanking me. is there some other entertainment you desire? besides what you've already voiced, because i'm not so inclined to give you such a large favor when you haven't done anything for me in return.
zoya is not so forgiving. you should be thanking me. is there some other entertainment you desire? besides what you've already voiced, because i'm not so inclined to give you such a large favor when you haven't done anything for me in return.
i don't judge my company by how useful they can be to me. although you are very useful.
what a slight. i can write good poetry if i've slept for twelve hours and haven't had to listen to complaints about the rising prices of imported sugar. unfortunately, that combination hasn't taken place in quite some time.
i enjoy it most times. lack of attention leaves me feeling reprehensibly lonely ā make a note of that. but i do, at times, miss being able to disappear without anyone immediately beginning to look for me. no one cares about the second son until you have no choice but to pay attention to him now on account of him being king. and the first son being tragically eaten by a volcra, but i digress. do you need anything for your journey home?
what a slight. i can write good poetry if i've slept for twelve hours and haven't had to listen to complaints about the rising prices of imported sugar. unfortunately, that combination hasn't taken place in quite some time.
i enjoy it most times. lack of attention leaves me feeling reprehensibly lonely ā make a note of that. but i do, at times, miss being able to disappear without anyone immediately beginning to look for me. no one cares about the second son until you have no choice but to pay attention to him now on account of him being king. and the first son being tragically eaten by a volcra, but i digress. do you need anything for your journey home?
I always like to note someoneās usefulness. Especially my own. Recognizing anotherās talents is often beneficial to everyone, including themselves, if it can then be built upon. It needn't always be about judging in a poor way.
Mmm, that sounds like a lot of excuses. You should have a āhow toā mindset, Lantsov, instead of a āwhy not.ā [Part of being Kazās friend is him being an absolute little shit and having very little sympathy for a lack of sleep and work machinations.] Sugar imports and exports though, theyāve been very lucrative to me and mine.
[Family issues earn more leeway with his mockery.] It sounds like you had a shipās crew that didnāt give a shit what birth order you were born into. As far as your other family is concerned, for what itās worth, I wonāt mock the losses youāve had. A ship and crew is all I need. I can see to the rest. And yes, theyāll be in good hands. Dirtyhands, but trust me, those are ones youād want them in.
Mmm, that sounds like a lot of excuses. You should have a āhow toā mindset, Lantsov, instead of a āwhy not.ā [Part of being Kazās friend is him being an absolute little shit and having very little sympathy for a lack of sleep and work machinations.] Sugar imports and exports though, theyāve been very lucrative to me and mine.
[Family issues earn more leeway with his mockery.] It sounds like you had a shipās crew that didnāt give a shit what birth order you were born into. As far as your other family is concerned, for what itās worth, I wonāt mock the losses youāve had. A ship and crew is all I need. I can see to the rest. And yes, theyāll be in good hands. Dirtyhands, but trust me, those are ones youād want them in.
have you ever just enjoyed someone's company in a moment for no reason other than they just are enjoyable? i encourage you try it.
too right, brekker. once i figure out the how to's of napping, i'll send you my marvelous poem on our friendship. in the meantime, all of ravka drinks very expensive tea, all thanks to you.
the seas are a dangerous place to be a prince, so i made sure only a few trusted men knew. but go ahead and mock. i don't miss my brother. well, i tried to, i'm not a complete monster, but it doesn't come easily. i think i just miss the idea of what a brother could've been. mine tried to poison me at twelve. i'm fairly certain that's not what a brother is supposed to do. do you have family?
too right, brekker. once i figure out the how to's of napping, i'll send you my marvelous poem on our friendship. in the meantime, all of ravka drinks very expensive tea, all thanks to you.
the seas are a dangerous place to be a prince, so i made sure only a few trusted men knew. but go ahead and mock. i don't miss my brother. well, i tried to, i'm not a complete monster, but it doesn't come easily. i think i just miss the idea of what a brother could've been. mine tried to poison me at twelve. i'm fairly certain that's not what a brother is supposed to do. do you have family?
I have. Iāve never known someone where I didnāt know what their talents and weaknesses were. Not all of those talents and weakness were relevant though at every moment. Unless they were making me a drink and they lacked the ability to taste and measure.
If you want me to pull strings with the Merchantās Council Iāll need your country to adopt better beverage preferences. I canāt argue on behalf of people who choose tea over coffee.
I know monsters, Lantsov. Iāve lurked in doorways myself. Youāre not one of them. As for family, I have my crew. And more importantly, they have me.
If you want me to pull strings with the Merchantās Council Iāll need your country to adopt better beverage preferences. I canāt argue on behalf of people who choose tea over coffee.
I know monsters, Lantsov. Iāve lurked in doorways myself. Youāre not one of them. As for family, I have my crew. And more importantly, they have me.
luckily for you, i'm excellent at both tasting and measuring, and i have no weaknesses.
i can't change generations of tradition in one reign, brekker. the people love their tea almost as much as they love praying to their saints. the public's perception of me would plummet if i shunned tea entirely. you'll have to forgive them, though. most of our citizens have never left ravka.
do you? know monsters. the people kind or the ones with sharp teeth?
i can't change generations of tradition in one reign, brekker. the people love their tea almost as much as they love praying to their saints. the public's perception of me would plummet if i shunned tea entirely. you'll have to forgive them, though. most of our citizens have never left ravka.
do you? know monsters. the people kind or the ones with sharp teeth?
Craft a drink in my honor and I'll at least acquiesce your weakness doesn't lie in the beverage department.
That's the nice thing about not bending a knee to king, country, or saint. I don't have to do a damn thing. If you want to discuss coffee exporting or fair taxes on the fat merchers' kruge though, we can talk.
The two can coincide, and it's always in how one uses an attribute, fangs or otherwise.
That's the nice thing about not bending a knee to king, country, or saint. I don't have to do a damn thing. If you want to discuss coffee exporting or fair taxes on the fat merchers' kruge though, we can talk.
The two can coincide, and it's always in how one uses an attribute, fangs or otherwise.
Edited 2023-06-11 22:15 (UTC)
Page 31 of 32