[ days pass in a daze. nikolai had never known her before had begun to shine brightly as the sun summoner, but the light in her has dulled into to a past version of herself. she had not cried in front of him since that initial discovery, some old rule about surviving the most difficult moments as a child surfacing to protect her like armor.
alina sits looking impossibly small from her perch on the over-sized sofa. she is thin and weak and pale. her fingers are curled into a blanket draped over her shoulders, but it does little to warm her. meals had been sent but uneaten, feeling like ash in her mouth.
she should have attended the royal funeral. she shouldn't have sent nikolai out to face them alone. she had started to dress, but apparently she had never even made it past a white slip and stays. the thought of wearing black made her want to vomit, but gold was too much. she couldn't stand the idea of so many eyes on her after she had failed to protect even nikolai's family and mal safe. if she cannot do it for them, how could she ever do it for ravka?
half of her is lost. more than that. it feels impossible to be whole ever again.
she can't quite meet his eyes, and at his question she stifles a shuddering, shallow breath. it's as if the weight of her sorrow was a literal stone on her chest restricting her breath. have you thought about what you want to do with Mal? like his a thing rather than a person. she wishes she could ignore it, pretend that their units were simply split up and that they might meet back at kribirsk again in a few weeks.
no more running, though. she had promised that. she swallows heavily, her voice hoarse, having not used it all day. maybe in days. ]
Keramzin.
[ it's stupid, but it's all she can think of. of course mal was the only thing that made it ever close to a home. true north, he had explained to her once. he was her true north. she is spinning, disoriented without him. but it feels right to lay him to rest there, in the place where they had hidden from the ugly realities of the orphanage and dreamed of lives they would never have. ]
You... you don't have to come with.
[ she can take a carriage. either tolya or tamar would come of course, while one stays here with nikolai. in her grief, she forgets what nikolai has lost and the burden he is having suddenly thrust upon him. she cannot keep all of ravka rudderless and kingless while she mourns. ]
[ it hurts to see her like this, a far cry from the girl blazing bright that he's come to know. she is worn and pale, shadows pronounced beneath her eyes, a palpable sadness clinging to her. he feels helpless, all his charm and influence rendered useless in the face of their current plight. nothing he can say will make this right. nothing he can do will bring mal back to her.
he's quiet, taking a moment to pull his decorated jacket off as he summons a servant for tea, then sits beside her, leaving a respectable bit of space between them as he wearily strips off his gloves and pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. he rubs his aching eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, wishing for what has to be the hundredth time that there could be some bit of relief to this knot of grief growing larger and pulling tighter every day.
the tea comes, a tray with gilded cups ready for them, the gleaming samovar emitting the pleasant notes of lavender and chamomile. nikolai offers alina a steaming cup on a matching plate, his gaze gentle. ]
Drink. Please.
[ as if to drive his point home, he serves himself and takes a sip, the tea tasting like nothing on his tongue but the heat at least pleasant on his overused throat. the quiet falls between them again, nikolai sitting back as he draws in a slow, measured breath. ]
I had a feeling you might say Keramzin. [ his voice is soft, nearly murmured to himself. he clears his throat and takes another swallow. ] I wish to come with you. I’m — I don't want you to be alone.
[ guilt presses hard at him. even now — perhaps now more than ever — it isn’t lost on him how vital it is for alina to be his queen. despite everything, he somehow has to spin the words and create the magic that might still make that a reality. he’s ashamed of even having the thought, but the world will not stop for their pain. it never has.
he takes another tasteless swallow. ] We’ll delay the official coronation ceremony out of respect, but it will just be for tradition’s sake. I’m to take my oaths in private tonight. We can leave for Keramzin in the morning or — right after, if you’d like. I doubt you’re doing much sleeping. Truth be told, neither am I.
[ his words trail off, the silence louder than a scream. he reaches out and touches alina’s hand, gently clasping her fingers in his. ]
Please look at me. [ he searches her face carefully. I may not know just what you’re feeling, but know that I’m here. For anything that you might need. If you want to talk about him... it's all right. I'll listen. If you don't, I'll be with you in the silence. Just know that you're not alone.
[ alina obeys his polite command, if only because she he complies himself, lifting the cup to her mouth, thankful her hands have stopped trembling long enough to manage without spilling it all over herself. it's hot enough that it might burn her tongue, and she's silently glad for it. it gives her some other pain to focus on than the invisible monster trying to burrow out of her chest.
her hand feels cold and numb, fingers clunky as if she had fallen asleep wrong, her mind cannot reconcile the sight of her hand tucked into nikolai's. it feels as if the hand should belong to someone else. her hand has no home in that of a prince's.
clearing her throat, she lifts her eyes. they settle on his eyes for a moment before she succumbs to the uncomfortable need to look away. she focuses on a dying oil lamp. it's been lit for days, one of many to keep the room bright even into the darkest hours of the night. each shifting shadow feels too alive, thick and suffocating, like a spectre might walk out of them. the lamps chase the shadows out for her, not strong enough to keep them away herself.
her lips part to protest, but she cannot assemble the words. she does not want to be alone. she does not want to make the journey alone.
mal would not have wanted her to be alone.
eyes flick up to his, she nods a silent assent. and then, after a moment, she surprises herself with her offer. ]
Do you want me to be present at your vows?
[ it feels... appropriate. equal in some way, but she doesn't offer it just because she missed the funeral. mantles can be quite heavy when carried alone. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feed me
alina sits looking impossibly small from her perch on the over-sized sofa. she is thin and weak and pale. her fingers are curled into a blanket draped over her shoulders, but it does little to warm her. meals had been sent but uneaten, feeling like ash in her mouth.
she should have attended the royal funeral. she shouldn't have sent nikolai out to face them alone. she had started to dress, but apparently she had never even made it past a white slip and stays. the thought of wearing black made her want to vomit, but gold was too much. she couldn't stand the idea of so many eyes on her after she had failed to protect even nikolai's family and mal safe. if she cannot do it for them, how could she ever do it for ravka?
half of her is lost. more than that. it feels impossible to be whole ever again.
she can't quite meet his eyes, and at his question she stifles a shuddering, shallow breath. it's as if the weight of her sorrow was a literal stone on her chest restricting her breath. have you thought about what you want to do with Mal? like his a thing rather than a person. she wishes she could ignore it, pretend that their units were simply split up and that they might meet back at kribirsk again in a few weeks.
no more running, though. she had promised that. she swallows heavily, her voice hoarse, having not used it all day. maybe in days. ]
Keramzin.
[ it's stupid, but it's all she can think of. of course mal was the only thing that made it ever close to a home. true north, he had explained to her once. he was her true north. she is spinning, disoriented without him. but it feels right to lay him to rest there, in the place where they had hidden from the ugly realities of the orphanage and dreamed of lives they would never have. ]
You... you don't have to come with.
[ she can take a carriage. either tolya or tamar would come of course, while one stays here with nikolai. in her grief, she forgets what nikolai has lost and the burden he is having suddenly thrust upon him. she cannot keep all of ravka rudderless and kingless while she mourns. ]
no subject
he's quiet, taking a moment to pull his decorated jacket off as he summons a servant for tea, then sits beside her, leaving a respectable bit of space between them as he wearily strips off his gloves and pushes the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. he rubs his aching eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, wishing for what has to be the hundredth time that there could be some bit of relief to this knot of grief growing larger and pulling tighter every day.
the tea comes, a tray with gilded cups ready for them, the gleaming samovar emitting the pleasant notes of lavender and chamomile. nikolai offers alina a steaming cup on a matching plate, his gaze gentle. ]
Drink. Please.
[ as if to drive his point home, he serves himself and takes a sip, the tea tasting like nothing on his tongue but the heat at least pleasant on his overused throat. the quiet falls between them again, nikolai sitting back as he draws in a slow, measured breath. ]
I had a feeling you might say Keramzin. [ his voice is soft, nearly murmured to himself. he clears his throat and takes another swallow. ] I wish to come with you. I’m — I don't want you to be alone.
[ guilt presses hard at him. even now — perhaps now more than ever — it isn’t lost on him how vital it is for alina to be his queen. despite everything, he somehow has to spin the words and create the magic that might still make that a reality. he’s ashamed of even having the thought, but the world will not stop for their pain. it never has.
he takes another tasteless swallow. ] We’ll delay the official coronation ceremony out of respect, but it will just be for tradition’s sake. I’m to take my oaths in private tonight. We can leave for Keramzin in the morning or — right after, if you’d like. I doubt you’re doing much sleeping. Truth be told, neither am I.
[ his words trail off, the silence louder than a scream. he reaches out and touches alina’s hand, gently clasping her fingers in his. ]
Please look at me. [ he searches her face carefully. I may not know just what you’re feeling, but know that I’m here. For anything that you might need. If you want to talk about him... it's all right. I'll listen. If you don't, I'll be with you in the silence. Just know that you're not alone.
tagging this like https://i.imgur.com/0ARhOFy.png
her hand feels cold and numb, fingers clunky as if she had fallen asleep wrong, her mind cannot reconcile the sight of her hand tucked into nikolai's. it feels as if the hand should belong to someone else. her hand has no home in that of a prince's.
clearing her throat, she lifts her eyes. they settle on his eyes for a moment before she succumbs to the uncomfortable need to look away. she focuses on a dying oil lamp. it's been lit for days, one of many to keep the room bright even into the darkest hours of the night. each shifting shadow feels too alive, thick and suffocating, like a spectre might walk out of them. the lamps chase the shadows out for her, not strong enough to keep them away herself.
her lips part to protest, but she cannot assemble the words. she does not want to be alone. she does not want to make the journey alone.
mal would not have wanted her to be alone.
eyes flick up to his, she nods a silent assent. and then, after a moment, she surprises herself with her offer. ]
Do you want me to be present at your vows?
[ it feels... appropriate. equal in some way, but she doesn't offer it just because she missed the funeral. mantles can be quite heavy when carried alone. ]