[ kaz, of course, leaves him behind. he's gone before they can have a proper conversation in the daylight, the meeting moved up and done without his knowledge, the ship having already set sail for ketterdam. nikolai always knew that one day he'd enter the hellishly sunlit guest suite and find it abruptly empty, devoid of all personal effects, as untouched as before brekker had ever set foot in the palace, but it takes him by surprise all the same. foolishly, he turns over the pillows, opens the drawers, even runs his fingers behind the heavy paintings hanging from the walls, unsure of what he's looking for but hoping that he would've left something behind. a note. a puzzle. some clue for him to follow. even a sign telling him not to follow would have been better than the emptiness of knowing that kaz left without a word, without so much as a goodbye.
but he supposes whatever happened by the lake was goodbye. when nikolai had gone underwater, maybe that was to a place that kaz couldn't follow. hadn't offered him a hand. hadn't told him this could be their midnight swim, that nikolai would keep him safe and show him there was nothing to be afraid of. he grew up in that lake. always wanted to take kaz swimming in it. he should have. maybe he would still be here if he had.
presently, he has to set all his kaz-related regrets aside to deal with his other regrets. this door has been swinging shut for some time now, and perhaps this is the moment it closes for good. zoya tracks him down, taking one look at him and inquiring about brekker, and she's equal parts angry and relieved that he's gone — only angry that he left on his own terms as opposed to hers. nikolai begins the arduous task of putting it all out of his head. he has to look forward now. there's work to be done, wrongs to be made right, a heavy weight that he has to shoulder. kaz doesn't need him. at least that much is true.
once more, the weeks drag on. nikolai makes his pilgrimage with tamar and tolya at his side. he starts letters that he never finishes, never mails, but he does begin sending other things to kaz in the post, emblazoned with the lantsov seal — sketches instead of words, minimal scrawl in the margins. pieces of lazlayon. he sends the floor plan first with hardly any description, allowing kaz to puzzle out what it is on his own. then more detailed drawings of different parts of the laboratory, the different sections for the different grisha orders. the massive lake. the submarines, inside and out. some of the drawings are technical and some are picaresque, the fog helped along by squallers, the massive grounds of lush grass, the luxe mansion in count kirigan's name that disguises it all. all his secrets, sent in pieces to the crow club. he even sketches the underground tunnels that lead to the stables of the grand palace. all places he should have taken kaz to and didn't. places he knows he'll never get to see.
he imagines kaz casting his letters aside, throwing them in the fire without even opening them. wonders how angry he is, how hurt he is, and he knows he should send something more than just his drawings. he should send a proper letter with proper words. if kaz writes back, he doesn't know. he spends weeks away from the palace, and whether he has any mail from ketterdam is not a detail zoya is going to include in her own correspondence to him, sent regularly by royal couriers on horseback. nikolai doesn't ask.
he has enough on his mind anyway, spending his days with grieving families, some of them gleaning comfort from his presence, some of them looking as though they wish to grind his bones into the dirt. it's not so different from the tours he took as king, spending time connecting with the common folk, laboring side by side with them, eating in their homes, only this time he spends late hours learning the names of the dead, listening to their stories, and telling his own. his gloves come off for the first time with his people. the story they circulated years ago was that he was captured and tortured by the darkling during the civil war. now he finally fills in the details. he tells it over and over again, in every home, to every family. he leaves each night drained and still finds that sleep eludes him. he eventually caves and doses himself with genya's tonic after he nearly falls off his horse riding from one town to the next in an attempt to get some fresh air outside of the stuffy coach.
finally, the deed is done. nikolai has run out of faces in his memory. has run out of sketches to send to ketterdam. the calls for his head have stopped at least, in part thanks to his work over the long weeks, and in part thanks to kaz brekker. it stings to even think about him now that he's returned to the palace, its halls as empty to him as always, and he's quick to grow restless, the demon stirring for release after being caged for so long. with a more stable hold on it now, he goes deep into the woods and allows it the barest bit of freedom to hunt and feed to sate the growing edge of bloodlust. when it slips him back control, nikolai wrenches awake beside the ruined corpse of a small deer, blood soaking his clothes. it's all over — in his mouth, down his chin, trailing down his chest. he heaves and nothing comes up, but the demon's appetite has been slaked, curled comfortably inside of him.
zoya drags him inside when she sees him trailing the grounds covered with blood, ready to throw him in chains until he explains that it's not what it seems. she looks like she wants to take his head off herself, and he understands why. this is the last thing they need after everything he's done to repair what's been broken. one look at him and rumors will fly once more. she locks him in his chambers once more — temporary, she says — though this time he doesn't mind as much. he chains himself to his bed and promptly falls into a fitful sleep, alternating between nightmares and waking to think he'll find kaz's sapphire gaze staring back at him, but his bed remains empty, his room cold and lonely. he stares at the ring instead, stares at the blue sky once the sun rises. doesn't leave his room. doesn't want to.
after a week, he feels the demon stirring again. he knows he can control it, knows the best way to keep it tamed is to keep it fed with animal blood instead of human, so he leaves the grounds and goes to the woods again, allows it a measure of freedom. wakes again covered in blood, another corpse neatly deposited beside him, this time a boar. but this time zoya has followed him, approaching him silently, shaking out a heavy coat that she drapes over his shoulders. he shivers as she kneels beside him, her blue eyes glittering in the dark. different from his.
zoya speaks first. ] Do you have to do this?
[ not if i was dead. ] It's not a good idea to starve a monster, Zoya. This is how we keep it under control. We have something of an understanding, you see.
[ but he can already tell that she doesn't. or maybe she does see and she just doesn't like what she's looking at. he can hardly blame her. he's become a liability, a public relations disaster far worse than all the years spent speculating about his dubious parentage. but they've weathered worse storms than this. his hope is all he has, and right now, it's all in her.
and perhaps that's why it feels like something inside of him is trying to rend itself in two when she says, ] You can't stay here. [ it's the last thing he expects to hear, not because it doesn't make perfect sense, not because he doesn't deserve to hear those words, but because it's zoya. they're not supposed to come from zoya. from anyone else. just not her.
but she is a queen now, and to protect her kingdom, she has to do what needs to be done. it's a trait he respects. doesn't make it hurt any less. she doesn't shame him with pity, but she places her gloved hand over his bloodied fingers and explains what must happen. it's not exile. it's simply an absence, a way for him to minimize the possibility of disaster. nikolai lantsov is floundering, haunted by demons and unable to rest. maybe donning another face for a time will help. sturmhond could go anywhere, be anyone, work any job on the queen's orders. nikolai pretends to listen to it all with grace, but it feels like a banishment. like a punishment. maybe this is what kaz felt, the night he sent him away. maybe this was coming all along.
it's a command from his queen, and he has no choice but to follow.
of course she sends him to ketterdam, complete with a letter addressed to kaz fucking brekker. as if he's on the ravkan payroll now. it's sealed with a thick wad of blue wax impressed with the nazyalensky crest, but that doesn't stop nikolai from opening it and reading it himself. it is absolutely absurd from start to finish, a letter from zoya asking kaz brekker to watch out for him, because the night before leaving os alta, he paid a visit to lazlayon and accidentally set fire to his private workroom. by the time he left, half the mansion was in flames and count kirigan was running around the front gates with one of his ridiculous robes flapping behind him.
nikolai had watched the tidemakers put out the fire and assured count kirigan that there had been little of value left in the laboratory since the war ended and their focus had shifted away from military weapons anyway. in the letter, zoya blatantly accuses him of destroying his lab intentionally. says that nikolai has not been himself and to please keep an eye on him and — worst of all, she's enclosed a fat check to the crow club as if kaz can be paid to be his personal babysitter. he has half a mind to burn it. but the letter and the check both make it safely to the crow club, neatly resealed, and he makes it into kaz's office after picking the lock to the door instead of knocking — but only after causing a (generally positive) ruckus on the floor of the club downstairs, in true sturmhond fashion. ]
The Dragon Queen has a letter for you. [ he ignores the way his heart skips over several beats upon pushing the door wide open, half expecting either a gun or kaz's cane to his face. ] Has anyone ever suggested you invest in some skylights in here?
some rambling nonsense 4 u
but he supposes whatever happened by the lake was goodbye. when nikolai had gone underwater, maybe that was to a place that kaz couldn't follow. hadn't offered him a hand. hadn't told him this could be their midnight swim, that nikolai would keep him safe and show him there was nothing to be afraid of. he grew up in that lake. always wanted to take kaz swimming in it. he should have. maybe he would still be here if he had.
presently, he has to set all his kaz-related regrets aside to deal with his other regrets. this door has been swinging shut for some time now, and perhaps this is the moment it closes for good. zoya tracks him down, taking one look at him and inquiring about brekker, and she's equal parts angry and relieved that he's gone — only angry that he left on his own terms as opposed to hers. nikolai begins the arduous task of putting it all out of his head. he has to look forward now. there's work to be done, wrongs to be made right, a heavy weight that he has to shoulder. kaz doesn't need him. at least that much is true.
once more, the weeks drag on. nikolai makes his pilgrimage with tamar and tolya at his side. he starts letters that he never finishes, never mails, but he does begin sending other things to kaz in the post, emblazoned with the lantsov seal — sketches instead of words, minimal scrawl in the margins. pieces of lazlayon. he sends the floor plan first with hardly any description, allowing kaz to puzzle out what it is on his own. then more detailed drawings of different parts of the laboratory, the different sections for the different grisha orders. the massive lake. the submarines, inside and out. some of the drawings are technical and some are picaresque, the fog helped along by squallers, the massive grounds of lush grass, the luxe mansion in count kirigan's name that disguises it all. all his secrets, sent in pieces to the crow club. he even sketches the underground tunnels that lead to the stables of the grand palace. all places he should have taken kaz to and didn't. places he knows he'll never get to see.
he imagines kaz casting his letters aside, throwing them in the fire without even opening them. wonders how angry he is, how hurt he is, and he knows he should send something more than just his drawings. he should send a proper letter with proper words. if kaz writes back, he doesn't know. he spends weeks away from the palace, and whether he has any mail from ketterdam is not a detail zoya is going to include in her own correspondence to him, sent regularly by royal couriers on horseback. nikolai doesn't ask.
he has enough on his mind anyway, spending his days with grieving families, some of them gleaning comfort from his presence, some of them looking as though they wish to grind his bones into the dirt. it's not so different from the tours he took as king, spending time connecting with the common folk, laboring side by side with them, eating in their homes, only this time he spends late hours learning the names of the dead, listening to their stories, and telling his own. his gloves come off for the first time with his people. the story they circulated years ago was that he was captured and tortured by the darkling during the civil war. now he finally fills in the details. he tells it over and over again, in every home, to every family. he leaves each night drained and still finds that sleep eludes him. he eventually caves and doses himself with genya's tonic after he nearly falls off his horse riding from one town to the next in an attempt to get some fresh air outside of the stuffy coach.
finally, the deed is done. nikolai has run out of faces in his memory. has run out of sketches to send to ketterdam. the calls for his head have stopped at least, in part thanks to his work over the long weeks, and in part thanks to kaz brekker. it stings to even think about him now that he's returned to the palace, its halls as empty to him as always, and he's quick to grow restless, the demon stirring for release after being caged for so long. with a more stable hold on it now, he goes deep into the woods and allows it the barest bit of freedom to hunt and feed to sate the growing edge of bloodlust. when it slips him back control, nikolai wrenches awake beside the ruined corpse of a small deer, blood soaking his clothes. it's all over — in his mouth, down his chin, trailing down his chest. he heaves and nothing comes up, but the demon's appetite has been slaked, curled comfortably inside of him.
zoya drags him inside when she sees him trailing the grounds covered with blood, ready to throw him in chains until he explains that it's not what it seems. she looks like she wants to take his head off herself, and he understands why. this is the last thing they need after everything he's done to repair what's been broken. one look at him and rumors will fly once more. she locks him in his chambers once more — temporary, she says — though this time he doesn't mind as much. he chains himself to his bed and promptly falls into a fitful sleep, alternating between nightmares and waking to think he'll find kaz's sapphire gaze staring back at him, but his bed remains empty, his room cold and lonely. he stares at the ring instead, stares at the blue sky once the sun rises. doesn't leave his room. doesn't want to.
after a week, he feels the demon stirring again. he knows he can control it, knows the best way to keep it tamed is to keep it fed with animal blood instead of human, so he leaves the grounds and goes to the woods again, allows it a measure of freedom. wakes again covered in blood, another corpse neatly deposited beside him, this time a boar. but this time zoya has followed him, approaching him silently, shaking out a heavy coat that she drapes over his shoulders. he shivers as she kneels beside him, her blue eyes glittering in the dark. different from his.
zoya speaks first. ] Do you have to do this?
[ not if i was dead. ] It's not a good idea to starve a monster, Zoya. This is how we keep it under control. We have something of an understanding, you see.
[ but he can already tell that she doesn't. or maybe she does see and she just doesn't like what she's looking at. he can hardly blame her. he's become a liability, a public relations disaster far worse than all the years spent speculating about his dubious parentage. but they've weathered worse storms than this. his hope is all he has, and right now, it's all in her.
and perhaps that's why it feels like something inside of him is trying to rend itself in two when she says, ] You can't stay here. [ it's the last thing he expects to hear, not because it doesn't make perfect sense, not because he doesn't deserve to hear those words, but because it's zoya. they're not supposed to come from zoya. from anyone else. just not her.
but she is a queen now, and to protect her kingdom, she has to do what needs to be done. it's a trait he respects. doesn't make it hurt any less. she doesn't shame him with pity, but she places her gloved hand over his bloodied fingers and explains what must happen. it's not exile. it's simply an absence, a way for him to minimize the possibility of disaster. nikolai lantsov is floundering, haunted by demons and unable to rest. maybe donning another face for a time will help. sturmhond could go anywhere, be anyone, work any job on the queen's orders. nikolai pretends to listen to it all with grace, but it feels like a banishment. like a punishment. maybe this is what kaz felt, the night he sent him away. maybe this was coming all along.
it's a command from his queen, and he has no choice but to follow.
of course she sends him to ketterdam, complete with a letter addressed to kaz fucking brekker. as if he's on the ravkan payroll now. it's sealed with a thick wad of blue wax impressed with the nazyalensky crest, but that doesn't stop nikolai from opening it and reading it himself. it is absolutely absurd from start to finish, a letter from zoya asking kaz brekker to watch out for him, because the night before leaving os alta, he paid a visit to lazlayon and accidentally set fire to his private workroom. by the time he left, half the mansion was in flames and count kirigan was running around the front gates with one of his ridiculous robes flapping behind him.
nikolai had watched the tidemakers put out the fire and assured count kirigan that there had been little of value left in the laboratory since the war ended and their focus had shifted away from military weapons anyway. in the letter, zoya blatantly accuses him of destroying his lab intentionally. says that nikolai has not been himself and to please keep an eye on him and — worst of all, she's enclosed a fat check to the crow club as if kaz can be paid to be his personal babysitter. he has half a mind to burn it. but the letter and the check both make it safely to the crow club, neatly resealed, and he makes it into kaz's office after picking the lock to the door instead of knocking — but only after causing a (generally positive) ruckus on the floor of the club downstairs, in true sturmhond fashion. ]
The Dragon Queen has a letter for you. [ he ignores the way his heart skips over several beats upon pushing the door wide open, half expecting either a gun or kaz's cane to his face. ] Has anyone ever suggested you invest in some skylights in here?