[ he can't help his despairing smile or the way his arms readily encircle her when she lowers herself into his lap. he feels powerless against so many things as of late, and this is simply another one — her warmth, her soft touch, the lilt of her voice, all of it makes the rapid pace of his heart feel like entirely too much, his breath quickening in response. would it be easier if she was someone he could never love? he always thought that sounded like the worst fate, marrying a stranger and putting on a show for the rest of his life, but perhaps he's even more ignorant to matters of the heart than he gave himself credit for. ]
And after all the time I spent fixing your dress, now you don't want to go back?
[ soft lips brush his cheek, and he turns into them, catching her mouth in a gentle kiss as his hand trails down her collar, past the stag's antlers and down to the center of her chest. nothing about any of this has been wise, and sometimes he wonders what would have been if he'd never come back at all, if he'd lost himself completely to the monster and nikolai lantsov ceased to exist. would ravka be better off without his endless ambition and relentless drive for change? would someone else have stepped up to fill his absence better than he ever could?
he tires of the questions and the constant wondering. his mind has always worked like a ceaselessly hyperactive machine, and for the most part he's comfortable with it, but then there are moments like these that he wishes he could just stop. stop thinking. stop wondering. stop obsessively picking apart his failures. when he kisses alina it feels like a reprieve, however unwise and fleeting, but he chases after the feeling regardless, his hand roaming to pull at the sash he just placed on her minutes ago. now it's just in the way. ]
Are you saying we should go missing like a pair of misbehaving rogues? With the way you keep trying to get out of things, I'd say you were born to be my queen.
[ he pulls her close, his back coming to rest against a shelf as he ends up on the floor again. saints, he shouldn't, but there isn't a moment that goes by that he doesn't want her, no matter what he says. his hand cradles her cheek, kissing her languidly, his head resting against a collection of leather spines. the silken fabric pools between them when he finally gets the sash off, and he pauses mid-kiss, his eyes opening to suddenly gaze into hers. ]
Don't go tomorrow. Don't go to him. Alina, I — [ he swallows, his hand sliding softly into her hair. ] I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. If you want to be partners in this, then let's start here. Don't go off alone. When we face him, it'll be together.
So sorry, moi tsar. The two minutes you spent fixing my dress must have been very arduous for you.
[ his mouth muffles her scoff, but it can't quite silence her mouthy behavior. no matter how distracted she sounds while pressing into his embrace, pressing into him as though even the smallest distance between them is too much to bear. and, in truth, it is; she's too familiar with his pattern of retreating from her to allow him an opportunity to run, caged beneath the long line of her legs cinching tighter around his hips. she's too familiar with the longing ache of missing him as if they're too ghosts passing by one another to let him go this time. ]
I've already shared you with them tonight. It's my turn to have you to myself.
[ there are too many stares piercing into their backs, making her too aware of doubters and dissenters waiting for them to falter; there are too many whispers flitting from ear to ear, and too many smiles alight with expectations she feels forced to meet. for all that it's their betrothal, it has equally belonged to ravka tonight — theirs to celebrate, and theirs to scorn. but these quiet moments, the gentle cradle of his hands, unhurried kisses that steal the last of her air — they belong solely to her, intimate and sacred and hers. free from an outsider's judgment, uninterrupted by pointless flatteries she's learned to tune out, and unhindered by every political issue ravka has felt the need to bring to their attention tonight. returning with him only provide her limited time at his side before someone tugs either of them away for a so-called pressing matter.
at least this is a memory they can claim for themselves.
if only for an hour, she can pretend this is all they are: a misbehaving boy and a rebellious girl in over their heads, hiding away from their own party. she aches to hold on to it, but nikolai's plea washes over her like an icy river that drags her away from the comfortable warmth of his embrace. her throat is already forming a noise of protest before she can silence it, choking out a breath that spills over his lips. she tilts her head back into the soft brush of his fingers to drink him in — the openness in his eyes, lips that have turned kiss-swollen — and wonders how he could ever expect that she could find the willpower to leave him now. ]
Even if you have to live with this? [ she drags his hand away from her sternum and lifts it to her mouth, brushing her lips to each leather-clad fingertip and sealing it with a nip of her teeth. he's already declared as much to her tonight, but nikolai's desire to risk his chance at freedom to ensure her own is too much for her heart to comprehend when there's no guarantee they'll find another means to access the information they need. ] I won't go. I won't. But I promised you that I would find a way to make things right, Nikolai. What if I can't? What if I fail and that that never happens?
Well, I certainly can't blame you for wanting to skip out on the rest of the party.
[ nikolai is used to the scrutiny, the comments whispered behind his back, the weight of hundreds of stares each with their own expectations and preconceived notions. it's quite another thing to be thrust into the role with little training, and a grisha queen certainly has tongues flapping. there will come a time when alina has no choice but to traverse the treachery of public events, but tonight she does have a choice, and nikolai doesn't mind being it.
the reality that he might have to live with this for the rest of his life is a thought he's already spent countless sleepless nights turning over in his mind, but he doesn't let it show on his face. he keeps that tucked somewhere below his heart with the rest of his insecurities that need not see the light of day. this is a curse, a punishment doled out by a very powerful grisha, and it wouldn't be much of a punishment if it was easily broken. he knows this. he knows they might never break it. he knows there's a good chance he will devolve into madness and have to be put down, but tonight he doesn't air out those concerns. not when he plainly sees that alina needs the same reassurance that she's granted him.
there's a glimmer of a smile on his lips when he tucks her hair behind her ear and traces the curve of her jaw with a gloved fingertip, soft leather instead of the rough tread of his own fingers. ]
Failure is simply adventure by another name. [ there's only the slightest trace of tension in his gaze, otherwise looking serene. ] And if I have to live with this, then I'll do just that. I excel at most things and I don't see why this should be an exception.
[ spoken with a confidence he doesn't feel, but there's little he despises more than showing weakness when he truly feels it. he draws her in carefully, lifting his mouth to gently brush a kiss to her forehead. ]
You didn't do this to me, Alina. He did. [ he feels the monster stirring again, and he closes his eyes to face the darkness. ] You did what you needed to do in the moment. Trust me when I say you have far too many pressures to withstand in the future for you to give yourself any more. It's not your job to save me. I need you to be the queen that Ravka needs, no matter what else happens. That's your priority. It's what my mother and father were always missing, same as the Lantsovs that came before them. But not us.
[ he settles his hands at her waist, his smile growing because he can't help but think of how achingly lovely she looks. ] Moya tsaritsa. We won't miss.
[ it's such a distinctive nikolai lantsov speech, steady and cocksure, that she isn't certain he believes it himself. he weaves his words with a precision she's always lacked — like merzost on his tongue, too hypnotizing and capable of knowing what a heart wants to hear most for her to ever discern if it's the raw, unguarded truth. but in this moment, she's nothing short of grateful for it. even if it's a lie he's spun together with a silver tongue, even if it's a myth he's created just to comfort her, it brings her war-torn mind the peace she's been searching for.
or maybe it's the appearance of his smile — a rare and mythical sight, these days, when they have so few reasons to smile — that dispels her fear and stills her tongue and all of the self-punishing statements she wants to use to flagellate herself: he did this to you because of me. i don't know if i can be the queen ravka needs without you. nikolai has been a constant presence at her back, lifting her when she stumbles, guiding her when she comes to a crossroads and finds herself utterly lost. the only companion she has that fully comprehends what it's like to live with that fear of failure and duty dangling over them like a sword above their heads — waiting to drop at any moment.
she doesn't know if she possesses the knowledge to hold ravka together, should they lose him, and the thought of undoing every step forward he has taken to usher in a new era is as daunting as facing the darkling. as far as alina is concerned, nikolai is the very embodiment of ravka. but she can't bear to be the reason the expression on his face disappears and turns haunted, and so she traces the dimples of his smile with slow, careful reverence and hopes he can feel the gratitude that bleeds from her when she slides her mouth over his palm. ]
I don't think I'm ever going to get used to being called that.
[ her nose scrunches as if to ward off the little flutter of warmth that passes through her upon hearing it, or the glow that flushes through her skin. perhaps the issue should be that she enjoys it too much. ]
As long as you don't regret choosing me, I can live with all of that. Even if I know there are going to be days where you'll drive me completely mad. [ her fingers wind through the silken sash draped between them, looping it around his neck — and tugging, in a silent command to draw him into her. the touch of her kiss is teasingly, fleetingly soft. ] You really have no idea how much I've missed being driven mad by you.
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no subject
And after all the time I spent fixing your dress, now you don't want to go back?
[ soft lips brush his cheek, and he turns into them, catching her mouth in a gentle kiss as his hand trails down her collar, past the stag's antlers and down to the center of her chest. nothing about any of this has been wise, and sometimes he wonders what would have been if he'd never come back at all, if he'd lost himself completely to the monster and nikolai lantsov ceased to exist. would ravka be better off without his endless ambition and relentless drive for change? would someone else have stepped up to fill his absence better than he ever could?
he tires of the questions and the constant wondering. his mind has always worked like a ceaselessly hyperactive machine, and for the most part he's comfortable with it, but then there are moments like these that he wishes he could just stop. stop thinking. stop wondering. stop obsessively picking apart his failures. when he kisses alina it feels like a reprieve, however unwise and fleeting, but he chases after the feeling regardless, his hand roaming to pull at the sash he just placed on her minutes ago. now it's just in the way. ]
Are you saying we should go missing like a pair of misbehaving rogues? With the way you keep trying to get out of things, I'd say you were born to be my queen.
[ he pulls her close, his back coming to rest against a shelf as he ends up on the floor again. saints, he shouldn't, but there isn't a moment that goes by that he doesn't want her, no matter what he says. his hand cradles her cheek, kissing her languidly, his head resting against a collection of leather spines. the silken fabric pools between them when he finally gets the sash off, and he pauses mid-kiss, his eyes opening to suddenly gaze into hers. ]
Don't go tomorrow. Don't go to him. Alina, I — [ he swallows, his hand sliding softly into her hair. ] I couldn't bear it if anything happened to you. If you want to be partners in this, then let's start here. Don't go off alone. When we face him, it'll be together.
no subject
[ his mouth muffles her scoff, but it can't quite silence her mouthy behavior. no matter how distracted she sounds while pressing into his embrace, pressing into him as though even the smallest distance between them is too much to bear. and, in truth, it is; she's too familiar with his pattern of retreating from her to allow him an opportunity to run, caged beneath the long line of her legs cinching tighter around his hips. she's too familiar with the longing ache of missing him as if they're too ghosts passing by one another to let him go this time. ]
I've already shared you with them tonight. It's my turn to have you to myself.
[ there are too many stares piercing into their backs, making her too aware of doubters and dissenters waiting for them to falter; there are too many whispers flitting from ear to ear, and too many smiles alight with expectations she feels forced to meet. for all that it's their betrothal, it has equally belonged to ravka tonight — theirs to celebrate, and theirs to scorn. but these quiet moments, the gentle cradle of his hands, unhurried kisses that steal the last of her air — they belong solely to her, intimate and sacred and hers. free from an outsider's judgment, uninterrupted by pointless flatteries she's learned to tune out, and unhindered by every political issue ravka has felt the need to bring to their attention tonight. returning with him only provide her limited time at his side before someone tugs either of them away for a so-called pressing matter.
at least this is a memory they can claim for themselves.
if only for an hour, she can pretend this is all they are: a misbehaving boy and a rebellious girl in over their heads, hiding away from their own party. she aches to hold on to it, but nikolai's plea washes over her like an icy river that drags her away from the comfortable warmth of his embrace. her throat is already forming a noise of protest before she can silence it, choking out a breath that spills over his lips. she tilts her head back into the soft brush of his fingers to drink him in — the openness in his eyes, lips that have turned kiss-swollen — and wonders how he could ever expect that she could find the willpower to leave him now. ]
Even if you have to live with this? [ she drags his hand away from her sternum and lifts it to her mouth, brushing her lips to each leather-clad fingertip and sealing it with a nip of her teeth. he's already declared as much to her tonight, but nikolai's desire to risk his chance at freedom to ensure her own is too much for her heart to comprehend when there's no guarantee they'll find another means to access the information they need. ] I won't go. I won't. But I promised you that I would find a way to make things right, Nikolai. What if I can't? What if I fail and that that never happens?
[ what if you hate me for that? ]
no subject
[ nikolai is used to the scrutiny, the comments whispered behind his back, the weight of hundreds of stares each with their own expectations and preconceived notions. it's quite another thing to be thrust into the role with little training, and a grisha queen certainly has tongues flapping. there will come a time when alina has no choice but to traverse the treachery of public events, but tonight she does have a choice, and nikolai doesn't mind being it.
the reality that he might have to live with this for the rest of his life is a thought he's already spent countless sleepless nights turning over in his mind, but he doesn't let it show on his face. he keeps that tucked somewhere below his heart with the rest of his insecurities that need not see the light of day. this is a curse, a punishment doled out by a very powerful grisha, and it wouldn't be much of a punishment if it was easily broken. he knows this. he knows they might never break it. he knows there's a good chance he will devolve into madness and have to be put down, but tonight he doesn't air out those concerns. not when he plainly sees that alina needs the same reassurance that she's granted him.
there's a glimmer of a smile on his lips when he tucks her hair behind her ear and traces the curve of her jaw with a gloved fingertip, soft leather instead of the rough tread of his own fingers. ]
Failure is simply adventure by another name. [ there's only the slightest trace of tension in his gaze, otherwise looking serene. ] And if I have to live with this, then I'll do just that. I excel at most things and I don't see why this should be an exception.
[ spoken with a confidence he doesn't feel, but there's little he despises more than showing weakness when he truly feels it. he draws her in carefully, lifting his mouth to gently brush a kiss to her forehead. ]
You didn't do this to me, Alina. He did. [ he feels the monster stirring again, and he closes his eyes to face the darkness. ] You did what you needed to do in the moment. Trust me when I say you have far too many pressures to withstand in the future for you to give yourself any more. It's not your job to save me. I need you to be the queen that Ravka needs, no matter what else happens. That's your priority. It's what my mother and father were always missing, same as the Lantsovs that came before them. But not us.
[ he settles his hands at her waist, his smile growing because he can't help but think of how achingly lovely she looks. ] Moya tsaritsa. We won't miss.
no subject
or maybe it's the appearance of his smile — a rare and mythical sight, these days, when they have so few reasons to smile — that dispels her fear and stills her tongue and all of the self-punishing statements she wants to use to flagellate herself: he did this to you because of me. i don't know if i can be the queen ravka needs without you. nikolai has been a constant presence at her back, lifting her when she stumbles, guiding her when she comes to a crossroads and finds herself utterly lost. the only companion she has that fully comprehends what it's like to live with that fear of failure and duty dangling over them like a sword above their heads — waiting to drop at any moment.
she doesn't know if she possesses the knowledge to hold ravka together, should they lose him, and the thought of undoing every step forward he has taken to usher in a new era is as daunting as facing the darkling. as far as alina is concerned, nikolai is the very embodiment of ravka. but she can't bear to be the reason the expression on his face disappears and turns haunted, and so she traces the dimples of his smile with slow, careful reverence and hopes he can feel the gratitude that bleeds from her when she slides her mouth over his palm. ]
I don't think I'm ever going to get used to being called that.
[ her nose scrunches as if to ward off the little flutter of warmth that passes through her upon hearing it, or the glow that flushes through her skin. perhaps the issue should be that she enjoys it too much. ]
As long as you don't regret choosing me, I can live with all of that. Even if I know there are going to be days where you'll drive me completely mad. [ her fingers wind through the silken sash draped between them, looping it around his neck — and tugging, in a silent command to draw him into her. the touch of her kiss is teasingly, fleetingly soft. ] You really have no idea how much I've missed being driven mad by you.