[ Most days, she rises with the sun's ascent, an irony that isn't lost on her — the Sun Summoner, beckoned by the first glow of light beyond the window. Other days, she wearily waits for its first appearance to cut through the shroud of darkness in her chambers. It's a habit learned from the road, impossible to shake, as though her body still waits, taut and tense, for the next sign of danger. The next threat on their lives. The next obstacle to overcome.
It would be an easier enemy to face than the difficulties of her own heart. It thumps in her chest as soon as her bare feet sweep across the floor, like a beat that leads her through the palace's twists and turns, and toward the promise she has sworn. If the waking servants and guards worn into exhaustion from their nightly shifts notice her bedraggled appearance or the route she has taken, tray in hand, they say nothing of it — though she has no doubt that whispers will circulate, as they always do.
At least there is a Ravka left for them to gossip about. It's a wry thought that distracts from the anticipation that tightens her throat as she slips into Nikolai's quarters without a knock, the stare of a knight heavy on her back. There are still disheveled wisps of thick hair gathering in her eyes, nightgown rumpled from sleep; they are seeing too much of each other like this lately, she thinks, human and unguarded — but it's too late to think better of it and make her exit when she sets the assortment of toasts and jams and juices at his bedside table.
Or perhaps it isn't. Closely, she watches the rise and fall of his chest, uncertain if he's even awake at all when she mutters, ] Nikolai?
bless u for starting this bc i fell into a sleep coma before i could 😭
It would be an easier enemy to face than the difficulties of her own heart. It thumps in her chest as soon as her bare feet sweep across the floor, like a beat that leads her through the palace's twists and turns, and toward the promise she has sworn. If the waking servants and guards worn into exhaustion from their nightly shifts notice her bedraggled appearance or the route she has taken, tray in hand, they say nothing of it — though she has no doubt that whispers will circulate, as they always do.
At least there is a Ravka left for them to gossip about. It's a wry thought that distracts from the anticipation that tightens her throat as she slips into Nikolai's quarters without a knock, the stare of a knight heavy on her back. There are still disheveled wisps of thick hair gathering in her eyes, nightgown rumpled from sleep; they are seeing too much of each other like this lately, she thinks, human and unguarded — but it's too late to think better of it and make her exit when she sets the assortment of toasts and jams and juices at his bedside table.
Or perhaps it isn't. Closely, she watches the rise and fall of his chest, uncertain if he's even awake at all when she mutters, ] Nikolai?