i would call it those things. i think the guards would call it unnecessary hijinks with the sole purpose of making their jobs harder. however, important people must go missing sometime. otherwise people might forget that they're important.
[ it might be selfish to admit how much he likes those fleeting, private moments they're able to steal away. there are more important things to do in the eyes of others, certainly, but nikolai weighs his own desires and makes his own choices. if sitting by a lake with alina doing absolutely nothing is what he wants to do, then he'll find a way to do it. ]
it is insane, isn't it? to accept a proposal of marriage from someone you've known for such a short time without the guarantee of love. and when i asked i didn't even think you liked me very much. it's how i prefer to do things. why take the easy route when there's a much harder one you could struggle through?
i asked you because no matter what transpires between us, i believe we will always find a way to remain friends. i'll be very honest with you, alina. this won't be the fairy tale life most people envision for themselves, but i'll always do my best to try to make you happy. and i happen to find you very special. i, too, am very special, so i'm something of an authority on these things.
Or a well-executed kidnapping. I bet you could talk your way out of one of those, too.
[ which leads to the same looming question: how much of nikolai's charisma is genuine at any given moment. it's a difficult task, sometimes, to distinguish between the man himself and the mystery he pretends to be — like a mirage, threatening to disappear the nearer she comes to it. ]
Oh, I didn't like you very much. I fantasized about shutting you up by drowning you a few times. Sometimes I still do when you won't stop singing your own praises. It almost sounds like you chose to propose because you thought it'd be difficult.
[ ... considering the entire course of this conversation, he's not exactly wrong about that. ]
I'm not interested in being part of a fairy tale. Most of those end up horribly. But I do think of you as a friend. A good friend. I refuse to call you "special" because I don't need your head to balloon and carry you away. "Special friend" sounds strange, anyway.
funny you should say that, because in fact i have talked my way out of some dire kidnapping circumstances before. or at least sturmhond has. see? another bonus. you're getting multiple personalities here, and they're all charming, witty, and handsome.
[ is that really a bonus tho ]
i chose to propose for selfish reasons. it's true that i could have a choice of queens, but i wanted to give myself a chance at happiness as well, as uncertain as it might be. and i haven't met anyone else that i thought could give me that. even if we only remain as good and special friends, that would still be more than i imagined for myself.
[ that part isn't charm or charisma. it's the simple truth. he has to wed someday β that much is a fact β and he's always believed that he would have to put his heart aside for it. until alina. ]
ah! wouldn't that be genius? my head as a hot air balloon to fly over the skies of ravka? do you think the people would benefit from seeing that? i'll have to ask david if he'd like to work on this special project with me. perhaps the sun summoner needs one as well to fly alongside mine.
I don't know about that. Maybe you'll get jealous of your other personalities. Or maybe I'll become a widow when your kidnappers inevitably get tired of listening to you and throw you into the ocean.
[ har har har. ]
Keeping someone happy is a lot of pressure. And if you ever find someone else you want, you'll be trapped with me. You know that, don't you?
[ isn't that how courtly duty inevitably sours? but then she thinks of genya, the king's cruelty, the queen's vanity — and her lips press together. no matter her uncertainty over the tangled web they've begun to weave, it's impossible to imagine either of them those same roles. ]
The answer to that is: absolutely not. I'm sure your head as a giant hot air balloon is enough to overwhelm them all. I wouldn't want to overshadow you.
this might be uncomfortable to discuss, but if there ever was anyone else for you or i, i wouldn't keep you chained to my side. if we don't wed for love, then it's only natural to assume that we might want to find lovers of our own. however, it would have to be done with the utmost discretion and with the full knowledge that we will remain married and continue to present ourselves accordingly to the public. and it can't just be anyone. i'm sorry to say that it can't be mal. to be absolutely frank, taking a lover is almost more trouble than it's worth.
[ this is the part he loathes to speak on, but one thing he won't do is lead alina to the altar under false pretenses. hoping that he will be enough to match her needs is very different from the possible reality. ]
i thought it might provide some level of comfort. the would-be king is always watching. too much?
I'm beginning to believe there's nothing you aren't competent at. You could at least pretend to be terrible at one thing for the rest of our sakes.
[ he is, as she's always known him to be, frustratingly — and enlighteningly — insightful. it is uncomfortable, even more so for the uncomfortable knotting in her stomach. she doesn't want to examine how dangerously close it comes to disappointment and then sours to guilt, worsened by her temptation to write back: are you really sorry to say it?
he had admitted to his envy, after all.
her strange, unfair jealousy over a hypothetical situation is even more terrible. she swallows it down, ignoring its burn. ]
I suppose I should be hoping that's another area you're competent in.
[ on second thought — what a mortifying thing to send, snarky or not. abort mission. ]
You'd best get started on wooing me, then. Or courting. Whatever ridiculous word royals use. Maybe send a hot air balloon to haunt my steps.
i'm terrible at befriending spiders. i find them highly unfriendly and constantly question why they need so many legs. and i think i might be selling myself rather poorly here.
[ a stab at levity to attempt to salvage some of what's been said. he is perfectly competent at exactly none of this, considering he planned to put off marriage until absolutely necessary. still, it's always been in the back of his mind, a reminder that a king needs a queen, and that ravka's needs would be upheld over his own personal desires. alina is the rare combination of being both good for ravka while managing to warm his heart at the same time.
it's too good, which is why he's forced himself not to dwell on what her answer might be, whenever it comes. ]
specifically, the hot air balloon with my face on it. i'm hoping dinner can be a start, if this conversation hasn't caused you to lose your appetite. i'm never going to hide these truths from you, alina. i don't want you to later regret whatever you choose.
All the better to terrorize you with, obviously. I'll be sure to gather my army.
[ she's grateful for that moment of levity, however short-lived. it unwinds some of the tension in her spine, the tightness in her chest, that tells her there is no way for her to choose without making sacrifices. without casualties.
as with war, love is — apparently — much the same. ]
I like honesty more than I like a pretty lie. It's just strange to consider, that's all. And even stranger to imagine.
[ in all ways. queen alina would seem laughable to the girl she was not so long ago. never mind talks of courtship and lovers. ]
But I'll be there. At dinner, like I promised. Meet me on the grounds?
perhaps keep them hidden until a new war breaks out.
[ the tension in his own shoulders eases slightly at the promise that dinner is still on. he was afraid that she would politely bow out to go process the things said between them. ]
you'll find many things strange about this life. i'm afraid i've been a bit desensitized.
i'll be there with bells, whistles, and everything in between.
[ at least that was his intention. shortly before dinner he gets pulled into an emergency meeting about the trade lines in fjerda, an urgent matter that can't be ignored. he gives it his full attention despite being miserably aware of the time slipping by.
an hour turns into two. soon the room is dim with candlelight, the windows gone black with the setting sun, and when the last person has left the room, nikolai sits alone with a half-empty teacup at his elbow. alina will understand, he tells himself, but understanding has little to do with it. she can understand and still be marvelously disappointed in him β and, perhaps, this preview of what her life to come could resemble.
he makes a stop at the kitchens where he asks for several pieces of almond cake to be wrapped up β and, impulsively, a bottle of brandy. in his head it sounds like a wonderfully disastrous idea, but that particular notion has never stopped him before and he doesn't allow it to stop him now, even with the way his heart races a touch too quickly once he reaches the door to alina's quarters. ]
Alina? [ he knocks three times, then takes a small step back. ] If you're already asleep or don't want to see me, just throw something heavy at the door.
this tag brought to u by a moment of "my finger slipped into tl;dr mode"...... forgive me
And waits, stubbornly ignoring the slips of fading light as the sun shifts on the horizon. He never comes, of course; much as her sinking heart knows it, haven't they all sustained themselves on impossible, obstinate hope?
But there is only so long hope can carry a person before they admit defeat.
It's too easy to listen to whatever lies her jumbled mind wants to concoct — that he has finally come to his senses and shrugged off the cloud of insanity that has led him to choose her ranking above every other excuse she can imagine — when she finally rises from the grass and carries herself to the balcony in her chambers. Nikolai's words might have been an omen of the loneliness to come (you'll find many things strange about this life, he's told her; the hollow ache in her chest is, by far, the strangest and the least welcome), but where there is still daylight, there is still something to occupy her.
Something productive that isn't pining pointlessly.
Sparks of sunlight still glisten on her straining fingertips before finally fizzling into nothingness as the sun finally slips over the horizon to rest, taking the light and ending her practice with it. The burgeoning return of her powers reminds her too much of Nikolai: tempting, just beyond the reach of her fingertips. Something that doesn't wholly belong to her, beautiful and untouchable, and a little wild.
As wild as her heart as she moves instinctively, as though led by its rhythm, to the interrupting knock on her door. Her hair is still damp and disheveled from her evening bath, trickling down her spine, when the door swings open. The hearth of a lit fire crackles beyond the threshold behind her, seeping into the threads of her nightgown: something that feels ridiculous against her skin, especially now, silken and gilded and made for someone of greater importance than she will ever feel she is.
Her gaze flits to what he's brought with him, and then return to his eyes, holding steady. ]
If you came to apologize, that's a good start.
[ That dryness can't hide the tentativeness in her tone. He had warned her, after all, what this life might require of them; she hadn't listened closely enough, hadn't tamed her hope accordingly, but she's listening now. Without another word, she steps aside in clear invitation, allowing him space to step into the room. ]
[ she opens the door. that's perhaps more than he deserves right now. he was more than prepared to leave the cake and bottle outside the door for her to find in the morning as something of an apology, but now that he's staring her in the face β skin flushed from warm water, damp hair falling loose around her shoulders β words suddenly become harder to reach for.
well, not words. the right words. ]
I did come to apologize, and to hopefully make amends.
[ sincere apologies are not a strength of his and feeling remorseful is not a frequent habit. he finds those things tend to weaken a situation when he'd rather do the opposite, but this... this is not a war council or a courtly appearance. right now nikolai just wants to be nikolai.
( whatever that means, because since birth he's never been just nikolai. )
he accepts her invitation to come in, closing the door behind him, though he can't help but feel as though he's sneaking somewhere he isn't supposed to be. shaking off the feeling, he moves to the fireplace and sits right on the floor, snagging two glasses and immediately opening the brandy. ]
This is popular in Keramzin. [ he unwraps the cake, lifting a piece and holding it out to her. hopefully she doesn't throw it into the fire β the cake, or his hand. ] I'm told there's a festival where you all drink copiously and pass out cake. It sounds marvelous.
[ He makes for a strange fixture in the room. Perhaps it's her sudden awareness that he's entered her private space, with only the slightest personal touches that make it Alina but feel revealing nevertheless: the kefka draped at the edge of her bed, the blank canvases stacked on the floor with drying paints beside them, the blanket that still smells like lingering, floral traces of Genya when Alina spreads it out onto the floor.
Or perhaps it's just that it's Nikolai, a prince who settles for the cold, nipping stone floor despite being surrounded by the luxury of a palace. Nikolai, whose very presence in front of her fireplace forces her to imagine nights like this in her future. Chilled, exhausting nights, only warmed by the crackling heat of a fireplace and an exchange of apologies. ]
So have politics finally driven you to the bottle, or do you need to drink to enjoy my company?
[ The slight twitch of her mouth is telling in its teasing, however subtle, but it fades as quickly as it comes. In some ways, it feels like too much of a ruse for her to continue, as if there isn't unsettled tension settling between them.
She accepts the cake from his hands and drops onto the blanketed floor beside him, her knee knocking into his before she rearranges it. It's too close, maybe, but — hadn't she promised to give this a chance? She wonders this is merely his method of doing the same, a show that he has remembered where she comes from, who she is beyond the titles Ravka has given her. ]
I'm surprised you know anything about Keramzin. [ Her thumb raises to her mouth, brushing away sticky crumbs that want to cling to skin. ] Honestly, I'm surprised anyone would.
[ it's only now that he's sitting by a warm fire with a glass in his hand that the day's exhaustion decides to catch up with him. the honesty that wants to tumble out of his mouth β that alina looks especially lovely by the light of the fire β can easily be blamed on this. ]
Definitely the former. [ he tips brandy into her glass and offers it to her. ] I'm truly sorry I missed dinner. If it's any consolation, I was miserable the entire time we were apart.
[ he won't make promises he can't keep, so he doesn't say it'll never happen again knowing full well it most certainly will β to both of them, because alina will have her own engagements as both the queen and the sun summoner.
the cake melts on his tongue when he pops a piece into his mouth. he specifically asked for a dessert popular in keramzin as a show of good faith, but perhaps he'll have to inquire further if everything there tastes as good as this. ]
I know more about it than the average fellow, which quite frankly isn't saying much. You'll have to fill in the gaps for me. I prefer to learn about a place from someone who's lived in it rather than studied it on a map. [ he leans back on one hand, taking a generous drink. ] Or perhaps we should put on costumes and sneak away there ourselves. Pretend to be an old couple that makes hats. Genya could make us look eighty.
[ Her first sip scorches her throat on its way down, but the burn of it pales to the wildfire kindling beneath her skin. The warmth that blooms brighter, spreading to her collarbone like a flame, can easily be blamed on firelight and nothing else — but she knows better, knows it's a lie she tells herself.
I was miserable the entire time we were apart shouldn't be as pleasing to the ear as it is. She downs her next taste with the desperate need to distract them both from it, as if brandy can slaughter the sudden pounding in her chest.
In reality, it only manages to melt away the almond cake on her tongue, but never let it be said an attempt wasn't made. ]
Delighting in your misery does make me feel better. I'd say that more than makes up for it.
[ His company, truly, is all that's required to spread salve over that wound. Better, she wants to tell him, than any dramatic ploy he might scheme up. She draws her finger over the lip of her glass, instead, pensively circling its rim. ]
I don't think there would be much left to show you, after — [ After the Darkling's calculated attacks, a shadow feasting off of her worst fears in order to bring them to life. Her lips press tightly together. ] — everything. What I remembered is ruined, and even if it wasn't, Keramizin was a horrible place for children to grow up.
[ If she could grant Mal another life — if she could grant children as lost as them — greater than drafty orphanages and colder guardians, she would. But life had dealt them that hand, had brought them together in that way, had brought her here to this very moment; it's difficult to regret that. ]
I'll make a note that you enjoy that sort of thing. My misery, that is.
[ though it's hard to be miserable around alina. he finds himself giving attention to the smallest of details, the way a bit of her hair comes untucked from behind one ear, the glow of the fire warming her skin, her fingertip tracing the edges of her glass. tiny things that he's noticed since the start but pretended not to, especially when her smiles were reserved for mal.
he wonders, foolishly, if she's thinking of him now. ]
When this is over, then. When we rebuild. When we make it a place that isn't horrible for children to grow up. I think a statue in your likeness would improve things considerably. Or mine.
[ these are the sorts of promises that he can make, because he fully intends to keep them. the tension on her face is plain to see, so he shifts the conversation away from her home, but to a topic that is no less intimate. ]
I thought of you a dozen times today. [ a brief flash of a smile. ] For starters, every time I see the sun, I think of you. But I also thought of you while I was working on plans for the Kingfisher. I suddenly wondered what it would be like to see you like this. Now β I absolutely did not plan for things to go this way, but I have wanted to see you away from all the pomp and circumstance again. Like when I first met you and you first met Sturmhond. Before things became... more complicated, I suppose I should say.
[ he pauses to drain his glass, then reaches for the bottle again for something to do with his hands and somewhere to point his eyes that isn't at her. ]
Honestly, I don't know if I'm making sense. I'm rather tired. I know you're the same Alina you've always been, but sometimes I imagine you think I proposed just because of what you can offer Ravka. That's a part of it, certainly, but it's not just that. It's also just you.
[ When, when, when. Nikolai's head is filled with impossible, fantastical dreams — but the wildness of that will is dangerously, addictingly convincing. Sometimes, she thinks he's peril made man, a siren more than a sailor at sea, for how deeply he invokes that belief. Maybe foolishly, she lets herself drown in that fantasy until her lips pull upward in some wishful, wistful smile. Afraid, almost, to allow herself even that for fear of it being spirited away from her. ]
When this is all over, I'd like that. [ A beat, and then, rawly honest: ] More than anything.
[ To build the home she had never had. To provide safety that doesn't stem from a false image of sainthood. To welcome what Nikolai is willing to give, when many kings have only neglected and taken without a care. It's easy to give her focus over to that, rather than the racing rabbit-hearted rhythm in her chest, so ferocious she can't imagine that Nikolai is deaf to it. ]
You want to go back to when I wished you bodily harm?
[ That smile turns crooked, a dimpled thing that narrows her eyes to slits. It isn't what he said at all, but her mouth is so terribly dry from the swiftness of her pulse that it's the only sentence that loosens itself from her lips. ]
I think of you. Just so you know, since you seem to think I don't. [ Maybe that isn't enough. Maybe none of this is, but she offers it up as a piecemeal sacrifice, anyway, in return for what he's given her. ] But I wonder if you'll regret it, eventually. If you'll even be happy, choosing someone like me. That's what I think of the most. If it's going to become just duty to you, or if it's —
[ There are no words for it, truthfully, this tangled web they weave. In the end, she settles for: ]
Something else. You've always been very good at making it sound like a business arrangement.
[ and there β that smile he didn't know he was waiting to see. something loosens in his chest and he breathes a little easier. alina is so much like the sun herself that sometimes the irony of her being the sun summoner is too much to bear. she lights up any space she occupies by being unabashedly alina, and he thinks, perhaps, that mal would agree with him on that. it might be the only thing they'd ever agree upon. ]
There's something about a beautiful woman trying to maim me that is really quite enchanting. All of my favorite people have wished ill upon me at some point, I believe. It's almost like a rite of passage.
[ i think of you quickens his pulse, an unexpected combination of words. he wants to ask if she only thinks of him, but he's taken her previous sentiment to heart, that jealousy does not suit him, so he lets the words die on his tongue and washes their corpses down with a mouthful of brandy.
perhaps he has made all of this sound overly clinical, but there's such a fine line between fantasy and reality that sometimes he doesn't know which one he's toeing. ]
I wonder the same thing, Alina. Whether you'll regret this or not. Neither of us can know. [ that's part of the risk of an arrangement like this, when he doesn't have the luxury of waiting to fall in passionate love with a stranger.
but alina still could, in theory. it might cause a national spectacle even without her being queen, but she still has a better chance than he does. ]
I don't want you to feel like you've been led here under false pretenses. I'm being overly cautious, which quite frankly isn't an easy thing to get me to do. But I mean everything I say to you. [ a small pause here, before he plunges doggedly forward. ] I do believe I could be happy choosing someone like you. I think, with time, I could certainly fall in love with you.
[ Too many confessions rest on her tongue, waiting to leap as he has. But the danger of leaping without looking, without knowing what fate awaits them, traps them in her mouth. Truly, she wonders if they're even worth knowing — those darker parts of herself that eclipse what the world believes her to be. A sun, tainted by the sliver of shadow waiting to consume it.
There is no easy way to admit that sweet, honeyed words put her on edge. That his proposal reminds her of red coloring the snow beneath a stag, and a collar designed to be a chain. It isn't fair — to her, to Nikolai — that it flashes through her mind and seizes her lungs in its grasp with the ghostly fingers of the Darkling. She isn't that monster, and neither is he, but she cannot help that some shade of a familiar fear still lives within her.
This time, she may be the one to trap another. This time, she may be the one to be corrupted by the promise of a crown. She blows out a breath, as if that alone will dispel that burst of anxiety. (Predictably, it doesn't; less predictably, Nikolai's sentiment anchors her back to the ground, too good to be true and yet agonizingly so.)
So she does — leap, in her own way, wondering if she will collide with the ground on her way down. But not without finishing her glass, first, setting it aside a little clumsily. ]
Do you know what I think? I think we've almost died a number of times, and being overly cautious is starting to sound ridiculous when we've already been lucky enough to survive through impossible things.
[ Testing out an arrangement is not, by far, the craziest idea their group of rebels has ever had — but gambling with hearts is an entirely different game, with different stakes. ]
I think — [ Her tongue sweeps over her dry lips, as if she might summon the right words to a mouth that feels too parched. ] — giving this a chance is worth it.
[ It isn't the yes he wants to hear, but it's — something. Slow progress is, after all, still progress. ]
[ he watches the shadows in her expression closely, not for the first time reminded about the sort of person she became intimately tangled with. the darkling, his words and promises a polished onyx. the man who could lead ravka to utter destruction, but the point remains that he has a gift β not dissimilar to nikolai β of making people follow him. alina wasn't the only one under his spell, and he wants to remind her of that, but it's nothing she hasn't heard before and likely is tired of it. he knows many under the palace roof still dream of the darkling, only they're nightmares now.
a gentle smile pulls at his mouth when she sets her glass down. ]
I do believe we're rather death-proof.
[ perhaps it's hubris, but it hasn't failed him yet.
his brow arches slightly at her answer β not a yes, but he wasn't expecting one. this one settles far more comfortably than a yes would have, in any case. chances are his lifeblood; he's known for taking every single one.
he reaches for this one wholeheartedly, glancing briefly at the crackling fire before he returns his gaze to alina, leaning in a little closer so that their knees are once again brushing. ]
Are you trying to forget him right now? [ his voice softens, and he takes another chance, reaching up to brush his fingers along damp strands of her hair. ] Because I'd quite like to kiss you, but I don't want to make a liar out of myself.
[ It isn't a simple question. It lands like a strike, dizzying and unexpected; it sickens her like the sway of a ship, unpredictable and erratic in its rocking. She should be thinking of Mal — the hardness of his expression whenever his jealousy arises and turns him to stone, as if it will somehow prevent pain from striking him. She shouldn't be thinking of Mal, when the brush of Nikolai's fingers is its own flickering flame.
There is no easy answer. Of all the impossible odds they've overcome, there is no defeating the truth: whether she is thinking of him or not, there is no forgetting Mal, not when such a large piece of him resides inside of her, bright enough to drive away the darkness that threatens to creep in. Not when he is the only family she has known, the only home she has lived inside for so long.
(Long enough that, sometimes, she wonders if she has overstayed her welcome.)
But he has said right now, and she clings to that — selfishly, maybe, for how tightly she wants to hold onto this moment. Her breath is a stuttered thing in her threat, held in that delicate balance between anticipation and anxiety. Like this, she can feel the whisper of his own, the traces of rum she wants to trace away. ]
If I wanted to forget, the bottle is right there.
[ It shakes just a little, that answer that tries so valiantly to be unaffected, as her throat bobs with a harsh swallow. There won't be repairing this dam, once they unleash it, but Nikolai has always exuded a sense of danger. A sea that can be as gentle and soothing as it is wildly turbulent.
It makes her want to be bolder, braver; her eyes flicker to the softness of his mouth and linger too long, wondrous. ]
I'm only thinking of you right now.
[ If there was any doubt that still needed to be wiped from the board. It's a chance she seizes, a chance she won't wait to come to her; the press of her lips to his is a little abrupt, a little clumsy, a little lacquered with almond and rum — but unburdened by any lie. She wonders if it's enough for him to feel it, to accept it — if the understanding will be in his eyes when she does break away from that fleeting, uncertain brush of her mouth only to find and gauge his gaze. ]
[ it turns out that he doesn't have to wait. alina comes to him, and it strikes him how right it all feels that it happens this way, that he doesn't have to wonder how much of this is going along with his motions, caught in the upward cycle that his life tends to be. nikolai is confident in many things, but when it comes down to it, he lacks experience in matters of the heart. the timing has never been right, not once in his life, but maybe β maybe this can be.
the promise that heβs the only one sheβs thinking of spurs him into action, meeting her gaze when she breaks the initial kiss. thereβs a smile in his eyes, one that he hopes is reassuring. he believes her and he wants this, so much that his hand grazes her jaw when he leans in and kisses her again, traveling gently into her hair and pushing against the nape of her neck, where he finds her skin warm and damp. his thumb slides against the delicate bones of her throat, and he wonders, briefly, what it would be like to wake up to this every morning.
it could be marvelous. it could be a nightmare. presently, it takes just a few seconds more to stop caring, too focused on the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her skin. something gives way in his chest, a yearning thatβs been there since the first time he felt her lips and wished that she wanted his the same. a soft breath pushes out of him, both hands now carefully cradling her jaw as he maps out the shape of her mouth, tasting the heavy sweetness of cake and brandy and wondering if heβll ever be able to drink this again without thinking of this moment. ]
Alina. [ he whispers it against her mouth, a slight tremor in his fingers as he curls his knuckles to her cheek. gently, he lowers his hand to find hers, something careful and slightly hesitant in the way he tangles their fingers together. ] I canβt promise you everything, but I do promise to always try to be what you need. Whatever that may be. And no matter how many times it might change.
[ His kiss kindles her like that first burning sip of rum, filling her with a molten heat that buzzes through her limbs and pools low in her stomach. For a fleeting moment, she wonders if it's enough to grow intoxicatingly addicted, with the way her head fogs and floats. With the way she is tempted to chase after the promises his mouth forms, a bumbling drunkard without any hope for recovery. But it is, nevertheless, simple. The only simple thing between them, that requires no careful thought or calls into question the conflicted nature of her heart.
Perhaps it was always inevitable that she would go to war with herself, once the dust of Ravka's own settled. She anchors herself to this moment, instead — to him, with the twist and twining of her fingers locked into his collar. As though she can keep herself from splintering apart, as though she can shackle him to her like the prisoner she had never wanted him to become. They relax and clench in time with every word that pours from his lips, just the close sweep of them against her own enough to test her restraint.
It would be easy, to fall back into it and leave questions of the future for another day. It would be easy, because this they inevitably know how to do, while the rest of it remains, as ever, a confounding riddle. ]
I won't ask you to change to my liking.
[ Like a sail catching wind, he adapts as needed according to where he must navigate. She has seen it for herself: Nikolai the negotiator, Nikolai the would-be King of Ravka, Nikolai the bastard. All sides of the same face, depending on what's asked of him. What role is required, to evoke the right reaction. It has left her questioning which glimpses of him are real, and which he has manufactured in order to appeal to an audience.
A marriage that demands a performance from him isn't a demand she could, she would, make of him. ]
I need you to be a real person. [ Around his hand, her fingers squeeze, a subconscious gesture. ] I need you to be you.
[ Whatever he chooses to be. Ally, friend, lover, partner — she isn't certain where his own heart will lead him, but the point remains. ]
[ he's not so foolish to think that this will resolve anything or even to attach a weighty meaning to it. it's far too easy to get caught up in this feeling where everything is honeyed warmth and intoxication, where all he wants to do is kiss alina more deeply and drop his hands to trace the curve of her waist through her silken gown. it shakes him how much he wants this, and it's in that moment that he realizes that it will hurt if alina rejects this. he will wed and produce an heir no matter what her answer may be, but the thought of seeking out another political alliance with far less of a chance of love or even friendship thoroughly depresses him.
with a soft sound their lips slowly part, but even then nikolai doesn't move too far away, content in the hazy circle of β whatever this is.
a real person. you. it's more than a fair request, though alina doesn't know how hard it will be to give her that. if he acted exactly how he felt, if he voiced every worry and doubt, if he didn't push and push and push for relentless optimism in the face of countless improbable situations, then no one would believe in him and certainly no one would follow him. he reserves that honesty for exactly no one, only allowing it to creep in when he's alone.
doubt clouds his thoughts even now that alina would even like the raw version of himself. he doesn't even particularly like who he is in solitude. silence hangs for a moment too long before his glib manner comes inching back like a golden shield, lifting their laced hands to press a kiss to alina's knuckles. ]
I am me. [ from his cross-legged position on the floor, he exaggerates a bow. ] It would be terribly concerning if I wasn't. Although β I mirror your sentiment. I would never ask you to change for me, either. If you wanted to throw all of the forks away, then the palace would just have to be forkless.
[ She could let his charm sweep her away. Too many have been pulled into Nikolai's tide that way, but Alina knows too well what this is: another routine where one pushes and the other retreats, like the ebb and flow of water lapping at the shore. Perhaps that would be the wise move, if this were a war table demanding a strategy from her.
But she has asked for something real, something as genuine as those rare moments where she had been reminded that Nikolai was no different from her: just a boy burdened by the weight of duty pressing in on him, playing at being a prince. Just two people who have known what it means to be in over their heads and feeling as though they're drowning as a result. Santka Alina and the next ruler of Ravka, carrying an ancient and bone-deep tiredness no one should have to shoulder.
Without the titles, without the expectations, she's left to wonder if Nikolai even knows who he is beneath it all — and if she'll ever be allowed to carry that same secret, once the pretenses fall away like carefully removed armor. If the pretenses ever slip away. It's that bittersweet thought that wards off any of her amusement and provokes her to act. Her hand fists more tightly, a grip that proves unrelenting as Alina herself when she asks, like it's an accusatory blade she's pointed at his jugular: ]
Are you really you?
[ Those fingers loosen only so they can take themselves to the gilded hair near the nape of his neck, tugging — not sharply, not furiously, but firm enough to hold him there — to ensure he can't hide a lie by averting his eyes. Even if that action itself makes her pulse rush with the thought that he may very well want to escape her, after this. ]
You're not as convincing a liar as you think you are.
[ He had taught her his own tricks, after all — but for a terrifying moment, she thinks that perhaps the problem is that perhaps he is that perceptive. Perhaps she has never known him at all. ]
[ pinned by both her gaze and her grip, nikolai's sharp eyes never leave hers, and from here, the way the corner of his mouth twitches into something like a smile β it looks more like armor than amusement. her perception cuts deeply. he's highly impressed and simultaneously all too vulnerable for his tastes.
although he'll rarely admit to negative traits, stubbornness is one of them. the rest of his mouth curves around a smile that doesn't quite touch the barest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. ]
Do you think I'm putting on a performance for you? [ isn't his entire life a performance? ] I'm flattered that you think I'm apparently so interesting.
[ he lets go of her hand and reaches instead for the one currently gripping his hair, sliding his fingers along the inside of her arm and gently clasping her wrist. his thumb presses down against her hummingbird pulse. he is a convincing liar. he knows this to be factual. it's only alina with her biting sort of sweetness that penetrates his walls. ]
The firelight looks marvelous on you. [ pointedly not a lie. he draws her wrist to his mouth to brush one last kiss against her skin, then reaches for the bottle to take a generous swig. he grins, the spark back in his tired eyes, dangling the brandy like an offering before her. ] I wonder what the morning gossip will sound like if I walked out of your room before dawn wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
welcome bb c:
i think the guards would call it unnecessary hijinks with the sole purpose of making their jobs harder.
however, important people must go missing sometime. otherwise people might forget that they're important.
[ it might be selfish to admit how much he likes those fleeting, private moments they're able to steal away. there are more important things to do in the eyes of others, certainly, but nikolai weighs his own desires and makes his own choices. if sitting by a lake with alina doing absolutely nothing is what he wants to do, then he'll find a way to do it. ]
it is insane, isn't it?
to accept a proposal of marriage from someone you've known for such a short time without the guarantee of love. and when i asked i didn't even think you liked me very much.
it's how i prefer to do things. why take the easy route when there's a much harder one you could struggle through?
i asked you because no matter what transpires between us, i believe we will always find a way to remain friends.
i'll be very honest with you, alina. this won't be the fairy tale life most people envision for themselves, but i'll always do my best to try to make you happy.
and i happen to find you very special.
i, too, am very special, so i'm something of an authority on these things.
π₯³π₯³π₯³
I bet you could talk your way out of one of those, too.
[ which leads to the same looming question: how much of nikolai's charisma is genuine at any given moment. it's a difficult task, sometimes, to distinguish between the man himself and the mystery he pretends to be — like a mirage, threatening to disappear the nearer she comes to it. ]
Oh, I didn't like you very much.
I fantasized about shutting you up by drowning you a few times.
Sometimes I still do when you won't stop singing your own praises.
It almost sounds like you chose to propose because you thought it'd be difficult.
[ ... considering the entire course of this conversation, he's not exactly wrong about that. ]
I'm not interested in being part of a fairy tale. Most of those end up horribly.
But I do think of you as a friend. A good friend.
I refuse to call you "special" because I don't need your head to balloon and carry you away.
"Special friend" sounds strange, anyway.
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or at least sturmhond has.
see? another bonus. you're getting multiple personalities here, and they're all charming, witty, and handsome.
[
is that really a bonus tho]i chose to propose for selfish reasons.
it's true that i could have a choice of queens, but i wanted to give myself a chance at happiness as well, as uncertain as it might be.
and i haven't met anyone else that i thought could give me that.
even if we only remain as good and special friends, that would still be more than i imagined for myself.
[ that part isn't charm or charisma. it's the simple truth. he has to wed someday β that much is a fact β and he's always believed that he would have to put his heart aside for it. until alina. ]
ah! wouldn't that be genius? my head as a hot air balloon to fly over the skies of ravka?
do you think the people would benefit from seeing that?
i'll have to ask david if he'd like to work on this special project with me.
perhaps the sun summoner needs one as well to fly alongside mine.
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Or maybe I'll become a widow when your kidnappers inevitably get tired of listening to you and throw you into the ocean.
[ har har har. ]
Keeping someone happy is a lot of pressure.
And if you ever find someone else you want, you'll be trapped with me.
You know that, don't you?
[ isn't that how courtly duty inevitably sours? but then she thinks of genya, the king's cruelty, the queen's vanity — and her lips press together. no matter her uncertainty over the tangled web they've begun to weave, it's impossible to imagine either of them those same roles. ]
The answer to that is: absolutely not.
I'm sure your head as a giant hot air balloon is enough to overwhelm them all.
I wouldn't want to overshadow you.
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this might be uncomfortable to discuss, but if there ever was anyone else for you or i, i wouldn't keep you chained to my side.
if we don't wed for love, then it's only natural to assume that we might want to find lovers of our own.
however, it would have to be done with the utmost discretion and with the full knowledge that we will remain married and continue to present ourselves accordingly to the public.
and it can't just be anyone. i'm sorry to say that it can't be mal.
to be absolutely frank, taking a lover is almost more trouble than it's worth.
[ this is the part he loathes to speak on, but one thing he won't do is lead alina to the altar under false pretenses. hoping that he will be enough to match her needs is very different from the possible reality. ]
i thought it might provide some level of comfort.
the would-be king is always watching. too much?
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You could at least pretend to be terrible at one thing for the rest of our sakes.
[ he is, as she's always known him to be, frustratingly — and enlighteningly — insightful. it is uncomfortable, even more so for the uncomfortable knotting in her stomach. she doesn't want to examine how dangerously close it comes to disappointment and then sours to guilt, worsened by her temptation to write back: are you really sorry to say it?
he had admitted to his envy, after all.
her strange, unfair jealousy over a hypothetical situation is even more terrible. she swallows it down, ignoring its burn. ]
I suppose I should be hoping that's another area you're competent in.
[ on second thought — what a mortifying thing to send, snarky or not. abort mission. ]
You'd best get started on wooing me, then. Or courting. Whatever ridiculous word royals use.
Maybe send a hot air balloon to haunt my steps.
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i find them highly unfriendly and constantly question why they need so many legs.
and i think i might be selling myself rather poorly here.
[ a stab at levity to attempt to salvage some of what's been said. he is perfectly competent at exactly none of this, considering he planned to put off marriage until absolutely necessary. still, it's always been in the back of his mind, a reminder that a king needs a queen, and that ravka's needs would be upheld over his own personal desires. alina is the rare combination of being both good for ravka while managing to warm his heart at the same time.
it's too good, which is why he's forced himself not to dwell on what her answer might be, whenever it comes. ]
specifically, the hot air balloon with my face on it.
i'm hoping dinner can be a start, if this conversation hasn't caused you to lose your appetite.
i'm never going to hide these truths from you, alina. i don't want you to later regret whatever you choose.
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I'll be sure to gather my army.
[ she's grateful for that moment of levity, however short-lived. it unwinds some of the tension in her spine, the tightness in her chest, that tells her there is no way for her to choose without making sacrifices. without casualties.
as with war, love is — apparently — much the same. ]
I like honesty more than I like a pretty lie.
It's just strange to consider, that's all. And even stranger to imagine.
[ in all ways. queen alina would seem laughable to the girl she was not so long ago. never mind talks of courtship and lovers. ]
But I'll be there. At dinner, like I promised.
Meet me on the grounds?
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[ the tension in his own shoulders eases slightly at the promise that dinner is still on. he was afraid that she would politely bow out to go process the things said between them. ]
you'll find many things strange about this life.
i'm afraid i've been a bit desensitized.
i'll be there with bells, whistles, and everything in between.
[ at least that was his intention. shortly before dinner he gets pulled into an emergency meeting about the trade lines in fjerda, an urgent matter that can't be ignored. he gives it his full attention despite being miserably aware of the time slipping by.
an hour turns into two. soon the room is dim with candlelight, the windows gone black with the setting sun, and when the last person has left the room, nikolai sits alone with a half-empty teacup at his elbow. alina will understand, he tells himself, but understanding has little to do with it. she can understand and still be marvelously disappointed in him β and, perhaps, this preview of what her life to come could resemble.
he makes a stop at the kitchens where he asks for several pieces of almond cake to be wrapped up β and, impulsively, a bottle of brandy. in his head it sounds like a wonderfully disastrous idea, but that particular notion has never stopped him before and he doesn't allow it to stop him now, even with the way his heart races a touch too quickly once he reaches the door to alina's quarters. ]
Alina? [ he knocks three times, then takes a small step back. ] If you're already asleep or don't want to see me, just throw something heavy at the door.
this tag brought to u by a moment of "my finger slipped into tl;dr mode"...... forgive me
And waits, stubbornly ignoring the slips of fading light as the sun shifts on the horizon. He never comes, of course; much as her sinking heart knows it, haven't they all sustained themselves on impossible, obstinate hope?
But there is only so long hope can carry a person before they admit defeat.
It's too easy to listen to whatever lies her jumbled mind wants to concoct — that he has finally come to his senses and shrugged off the cloud of insanity that has led him to choose her ranking above every other excuse she can imagine — when she finally rises from the grass and carries herself to the balcony in her chambers. Nikolai's words might have been an omen of the loneliness to come (you'll find many things strange about this life, he's told her; the hollow ache in her chest is, by far, the strangest and the least welcome), but where there is still daylight, there is still something to occupy her.
Something productive that isn't pining pointlessly.
Sparks of sunlight still glisten on her straining fingertips before finally fizzling into nothingness as the sun finally slips over the horizon to rest, taking the light and ending her practice with it. The burgeoning return of her powers reminds her too much of Nikolai: tempting, just beyond the reach of her fingertips. Something that doesn't wholly belong to her, beautiful and untouchable, and a little wild.
As wild as her heart as she moves instinctively, as though led by its rhythm, to the interrupting knock on her door. Her hair is still damp and disheveled from her evening bath, trickling down her spine, when the door swings open. The hearth of a lit fire crackles beyond the threshold behind her, seeping into the threads of her nightgown: something that feels ridiculous against her skin, especially now, silken and gilded and made for someone of greater importance than she will ever feel she is.
Her gaze flits to what he's brought with him, and then return to his eyes, holding steady. ]
If you came to apologize, that's a good start.
[ That dryness can't hide the tentativeness in her tone. He had warned her, after all, what this life might require of them; she hadn't listened closely enough, hadn't tamed her hope accordingly, but she's listening now. Without another word, she steps aside in clear invitation, allowing him space to step into the room. ]
it's beautiful shh
well, not words. the right words. ]
I did come to apologize, and to hopefully make amends.
[ sincere apologies are not a strength of his and feeling remorseful is not a frequent habit. he finds those things tend to weaken a situation when he'd rather do the opposite, but this... this is not a war council or a courtly appearance. right now nikolai just wants to be nikolai.
( whatever that means, because since birth he's never been just nikolai. )
he accepts her invitation to come in, closing the door behind him, though he can't help but feel as though he's sneaking somewhere he isn't supposed to be. shaking off the feeling, he moves to the fireplace and sits right on the floor, snagging two glasses and immediately opening the brandy. ]
This is popular in Keramzin. [ he unwraps the cake, lifting a piece and holding it out to her. hopefully she doesn't throw it into the fire β the cake, or his hand. ] I'm told there's a festival where you all drink copiously and pass out cake. It sounds marvelous.
π³
Or perhaps it's just that it's Nikolai, a prince who settles for the cold, nipping stone floor despite being surrounded by the luxury of a palace. Nikolai, whose very presence in front of her fireplace forces her to imagine nights like this in her future. Chilled, exhausting nights, only warmed by the crackling heat of a fireplace and an exchange of apologies. ]
So have politics finally driven you to the bottle, or do you need to drink to enjoy my company?
[ The slight twitch of her mouth is telling in its teasing, however subtle, but it fades as quickly as it comes. In some ways, it feels like too much of a ruse for her to continue, as if there isn't unsettled tension settling between them.
She accepts the cake from his hands and drops onto the blanketed floor beside him, her knee knocking into his before she rearranges it. It's too close, maybe, but — hadn't she promised to give this a chance? She wonders this is merely his method of doing the same, a show that he has remembered where she comes from, who she is beyond the titles Ravka has given her. ]
I'm surprised you know anything about Keramzin. [ Her thumb raises to her mouth, brushing away sticky crumbs that want to cling to skin. ] Honestly, I'm surprised anyone would.
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Definitely the former. [ he tips brandy into her glass and offers it to her. ] I'm truly sorry I missed dinner. If it's any consolation, I was miserable the entire time we were apart.
[ he won't make promises he can't keep, so he doesn't say it'll never happen again knowing full well it most certainly will β to both of them, because alina will have her own engagements as both the queen and the sun summoner.
the cake melts on his tongue when he pops a piece into his mouth. he specifically asked for a dessert popular in keramzin as a show of good faith, but perhaps he'll have to inquire further if everything there tastes as good as this. ]
I know more about it than the average fellow, which quite frankly isn't saying much. You'll have to fill in the gaps for me. I prefer to learn about a place from someone who's lived in it rather than studied it on a map. [ he leans back on one hand, taking a generous drink. ] Or perhaps we should put on costumes and sneak away there ourselves. Pretend to be an old couple that makes hats. Genya could make us look eighty.
no subject
I was miserable the entire time we were apart shouldn't be as pleasing to the ear as it is. She downs her next taste with the desperate need to distract them both from it, as if brandy can slaughter the sudden pounding in her chest.
In reality, it only manages to melt away the almond cake on her tongue, but never let it be said an attempt wasn't made. ]
Delighting in your misery does make me feel better. I'd say that more than makes up for it.
[ His company, truly, is all that's required to spread salve over that wound. Better, she wants to tell him, than any dramatic ploy he might scheme up. She draws her finger over the lip of her glass, instead, pensively circling its rim. ]
I don't think there would be much left to show you, after — [ After the Darkling's calculated attacks, a shadow feasting off of her worst fears in order to bring them to life. Her lips press tightly together. ] — everything. What I remembered is ruined, and even if it wasn't, Keramizin was a horrible place for children to grow up.
[ If she could grant Mal another life — if she could grant children as lost as them — greater than drafty orphanages and colder guardians, she would. But life had dealt them that hand, had brought them together in that way, had brought her here to this very moment; it's difficult to regret that. ]
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[ though it's hard to be miserable around alina. he finds himself giving attention to the smallest of details, the way a bit of her hair comes untucked from behind one ear, the glow of the fire warming her skin, her fingertip tracing the edges of her glass. tiny things that he's noticed since the start but pretended not to, especially when her smiles were reserved for mal.
he wonders, foolishly, if she's thinking of him now. ]
When this is over, then. When we rebuild. When we make it a place that isn't horrible for children to grow up. I think a statue in your likeness would improve things considerably. Or mine.
[ these are the sorts of promises that he can make, because he fully intends to keep them. the tension on her face is plain to see, so he shifts the conversation away from her home, but to a topic that is no less intimate. ]
I thought of you a dozen times today. [ a brief flash of a smile. ] For starters, every time I see the sun, I think of you. But I also thought of you while I was working on plans for the Kingfisher. I suddenly wondered what it would be like to see you like this. Now β I absolutely did not plan for things to go this way, but I have wanted to see you away from all the pomp and circumstance again. Like when I first met you and you first met Sturmhond. Before things became... more complicated, I suppose I should say.
[ he pauses to drain his glass, then reaches for the bottle again for something to do with his hands and somewhere to point his eyes that isn't at her. ]
Honestly, I don't know if I'm making sense. I'm rather tired. I know you're the same Alina you've always been, but sometimes I imagine you think I proposed just because of what you can offer Ravka. That's a part of it, certainly, but it's not just that. It's also just you.
no subject
When this is all over, I'd like that. [ A beat, and then, rawly honest: ] More than anything.
[ To build the home she had never had. To provide safety that doesn't stem from a false image of sainthood. To welcome what Nikolai is willing to give, when many kings have only neglected and taken without a care. It's easy to give her focus over to that, rather than the racing rabbit-hearted rhythm in her chest, so ferocious she can't imagine that Nikolai is deaf to it. ]
You want to go back to when I wished you bodily harm?
[ That smile turns crooked, a dimpled thing that narrows her eyes to slits. It isn't what he said at all, but her mouth is so terribly dry from the swiftness of her pulse that it's the only sentence that loosens itself from her lips. ]
I think of you. Just so you know, since you seem to think I don't. [ Maybe that isn't enough. Maybe none of this is, but she offers it up as a piecemeal sacrifice, anyway, in return for what he's given her. ] But I wonder if you'll regret it, eventually. If you'll even be happy, choosing someone like me. That's what I think of the most. If it's going to become just duty to you, or if it's —
[ There are no words for it, truthfully, this tangled web they weave. In the end, she settles for: ]
Something else. You've always been very good at making it sound like a business arrangement.
no subject
There's something about a beautiful woman trying to maim me that is really quite enchanting. All of my favorite people have wished ill upon me at some point, I believe. It's almost like a rite of passage.
[ i think of you quickens his pulse, an unexpected combination of words. he wants to ask if she only thinks of him, but he's taken her previous sentiment to heart, that jealousy does not suit him, so he lets the words die on his tongue and washes their corpses down with a mouthful of brandy.
perhaps he has made all of this sound overly clinical, but there's such a fine line between fantasy and reality that sometimes he doesn't know which one he's toeing. ]
I wonder the same thing, Alina. Whether you'll regret this or not. Neither of us can know. [ that's part of the risk of an arrangement like this, when he doesn't have the luxury of waiting to fall in passionate love with a stranger.
but alina still could, in theory. it might cause a national spectacle even without her being queen, but she still has a better chance than he does. ]
I don't want you to feel like you've been led here under false pretenses. I'm being overly cautious, which quite frankly isn't an easy thing to get me to do. But I mean everything I say to you. [ a small pause here, before he plunges doggedly forward. ] I do believe I could be happy choosing someone like you. I think, with time, I could certainly fall in love with you.
no subject
There is no easy way to admit that sweet, honeyed words put her on edge. That his proposal reminds her of red coloring the snow beneath a stag, and a collar designed to be a chain. It isn't fair — to her, to Nikolai — that it flashes through her mind and seizes her lungs in its grasp with the ghostly fingers of the Darkling. She isn't that monster, and neither is he, but she cannot help that some shade of a familiar fear still lives within her.
This time, she may be the one to trap another. This time, she may be the one to be corrupted by the promise of a crown. She blows out a breath, as if that alone will dispel that burst of anxiety. (Predictably, it doesn't; less predictably, Nikolai's sentiment anchors her back to the ground, too good to be true and yet agonizingly so.)
So she does — leap, in her own way, wondering if she will collide with the ground on her way down. But not without finishing her glass, first, setting it aside a little clumsily. ]
Do you know what I think? I think we've almost died a number of times, and being overly cautious is starting to sound ridiculous when we've already been lucky enough to survive through impossible things.
[ Testing out an arrangement is not, by far, the craziest idea their group of rebels has ever had — but gambling with hearts is an entirely different game, with different stakes. ]
I think — [ Her tongue sweeps over her dry lips, as if she might summon the right words to a mouth that feels too parched. ] — giving this a chance is worth it.
[ It isn't the yes he wants to hear, but it's — something. Slow progress is, after all, still progress. ]
no subject
a gentle smile pulls at his mouth when she sets her glass down. ]
I do believe we're rather death-proof.
[ perhaps it's hubris, but it hasn't failed him yet.
his brow arches slightly at her answer β not a yes, but he wasn't expecting one. this one settles far more comfortably than a yes would have, in any case. chances are his lifeblood; he's known for taking every single one.
he reaches for this one wholeheartedly, glancing briefly at the crackling fire before he returns his gaze to alina, leaning in a little closer so that their knees are once again brushing. ]
Are you trying to forget him right now? [ his voice softens, and he takes another chance, reaching up to brush his fingers along damp strands of her hair. ] Because I'd quite like to kiss you, but I don't want to make a liar out of myself.
no subject
There is no easy answer. Of all the impossible odds they've overcome, there is no defeating the truth: whether she is thinking of him or not, there is no forgetting Mal, not when such a large piece of him resides inside of her, bright enough to drive away the darkness that threatens to creep in. Not when he is the only family she has known, the only home she has lived inside for so long.
(Long enough that, sometimes, she wonders if she has overstayed her welcome.)
But he has said right now, and she clings to that — selfishly, maybe, for how tightly she wants to hold onto this moment. Her breath is a stuttered thing in her threat, held in that delicate balance between anticipation and anxiety. Like this, she can feel the whisper of his own, the traces of rum she wants to trace away. ]
If I wanted to forget, the bottle is right there.
[ It shakes just a little, that answer that tries so valiantly to be unaffected, as her throat bobs with a harsh swallow. There won't be repairing this dam, once they unleash it, but Nikolai has always exuded a sense of danger. A sea that can be as gentle and soothing as it is wildly turbulent.
It makes her want to be bolder, braver; her eyes flicker to the softness of his mouth and linger too long, wondrous. ]
I'm only thinking of you right now.
[ If there was any doubt that still needed to be wiped from the board. It's a chance she seizes, a chance she won't wait to come to her; the press of her lips to his is a little abrupt, a little clumsy, a little lacquered with almond and rum — but unburdened by any lie. She wonders if it's enough for him to feel it, to accept it — if the understanding will be in his eyes when she does break away from that fleeting, uncertain brush of her mouth only to find and gauge his gaze. ]
no subject
the promise that heβs the only one sheβs thinking of spurs him into action, meeting her gaze when she breaks the initial kiss. thereβs a smile in his eyes, one that he hopes is reassuring. he believes her and he wants this, so much that his hand grazes her jaw when he leans in and kisses her again, traveling gently into her hair and pushing against the nape of her neck, where he finds her skin warm and damp. his thumb slides against the delicate bones of her throat, and he wonders, briefly, what it would be like to wake up to this every morning.
it could be marvelous. it could be a nightmare. presently, it takes just a few seconds more to stop caring, too focused on the warmth of her mouth and the softness of her skin. something gives way in his chest, a yearning thatβs been there since the first time he felt her lips and wished that she wanted his the same. a soft breath pushes out of him, both hands now carefully cradling her jaw as he maps out the shape of her mouth, tasting the heavy sweetness of cake and brandy and wondering if heβll ever be able to drink this again without thinking of this moment. ]
Alina. [ he whispers it against her mouth, a slight tremor in his fingers as he curls his knuckles to her cheek. gently, he lowers his hand to find hers, something careful and slightly hesitant in the way he tangles their fingers together. ] I canβt promise you everything, but I do promise to always try to be what you need. Whatever that may be. And no matter how many times it might change.
no subject
Perhaps it was always inevitable that she would go to war with herself, once the dust of Ravka's own settled. She anchors herself to this moment, instead — to him, with the twist and twining of her fingers locked into his collar. As though she can keep herself from splintering apart, as though she can shackle him to her like the prisoner she had never wanted him to become. They relax and clench in time with every word that pours from his lips, just the close sweep of them against her own enough to test her restraint.
It would be easy, to fall back into it and leave questions of the future for another day. It would be easy, because this they inevitably know how to do, while the rest of it remains, as ever, a confounding riddle. ]
I won't ask you to change to my liking.
[ Like a sail catching wind, he adapts as needed according to where he must navigate. She has seen it for herself: Nikolai the negotiator, Nikolai the would-be King of Ravka, Nikolai the bastard. All sides of the same face, depending on what's asked of him. What role is required, to evoke the right reaction. It has left her questioning which glimpses of him are real, and which he has manufactured in order to appeal to an audience.
A marriage that demands a performance from him isn't a demand she could, she would, make of him. ]
I need you to be a real person. [ Around his hand, her fingers squeeze, a subconscious gesture. ] I need you to be you.
[ Whatever he chooses to be. Ally, friend, lover, partner — she isn't certain where his own heart will lead him, but the point remains. ]
no subject
with a soft sound their lips slowly part, but even then nikolai doesn't move too far away, content in the hazy circle of β whatever this is.
a real person. you. it's more than a fair request, though alina doesn't know how hard it will be to give her that. if he acted exactly how he felt, if he voiced every worry and doubt, if he didn't push and push and push for relentless optimism in the face of countless improbable situations, then no one would believe in him and certainly no one would follow him. he reserves that honesty for exactly no one, only allowing it to creep in when he's alone.
doubt clouds his thoughts even now that alina would even like the raw version of himself. he doesn't even particularly like who he is in solitude. silence hangs for a moment too long before his glib manner comes inching back like a golden shield, lifting their laced hands to press a kiss to alina's knuckles. ]
I am me. [ from his cross-legged position on the floor, he exaggerates a bow. ] It would be terribly concerning if I wasn't. Although β I mirror your sentiment. I would never ask you to change for me, either. If you wanted to throw all of the forks away, then the palace would just have to be forkless.
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But she has asked for something real, something as genuine as those rare moments where she had been reminded that Nikolai was no different from her: just a boy burdened by the weight of duty pressing in on him, playing at being a prince. Just two people who have known what it means to be in over their heads and feeling as though they're drowning as a result. Santka Alina and the next ruler of Ravka, carrying an ancient and bone-deep tiredness no one should have to shoulder.
Without the titles, without the expectations, she's left to wonder if Nikolai even knows who he is beneath it all — and if she'll ever be allowed to carry that same secret, once the pretenses fall away like carefully removed armor. If the pretenses ever slip away. It's that bittersweet thought that wards off any of her amusement and provokes her to act. Her hand fists more tightly, a grip that proves unrelenting as Alina herself when she asks, like it's an accusatory blade she's pointed at his jugular: ]
Are you really you?
[ Those fingers loosen only so they can take themselves to the gilded hair near the nape of his neck, tugging — not sharply, not furiously, but firm enough to hold him there — to ensure he can't hide a lie by averting his eyes. Even if that action itself makes her pulse rush with the thought that he may very well want to escape her, after this. ]
You're not as convincing a liar as you think you are.
[ He had taught her his own tricks, after all — but for a terrifying moment, she thinks that perhaps the problem is that perhaps he is that perceptive. Perhaps she has never known him at all. ]
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although he'll rarely admit to negative traits, stubbornness is one of them. the rest of his mouth curves around a smile that doesn't quite touch the barest hint of uncertainty in his eyes. ]
Do you think I'm putting on a performance for you? [ isn't his entire life a performance? ] I'm flattered that you think I'm apparently so interesting.
[ he lets go of her hand and reaches instead for the one currently gripping his hair, sliding his fingers along the inside of her arm and gently clasping her wrist. his thumb presses down against her hummingbird pulse. he is a convincing liar. he knows this to be factual. it's only alina with her biting sort of sweetness that penetrates his walls. ]
The firelight looks marvelous on you. [ pointedly not a lie. he draws her wrist to his mouth to brush one last kiss against her skin, then reaches for the bottle to take a generous swig. he grins, the spark back in his tired eyes, dangling the brandy like an offering before her. ] I wonder what the morning gossip will sound like if I walked out of your room before dawn wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
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