[ the night quiets around them, their mutual anger quelling to a simmer. nikolai almost prefers the biting wrath to the ache that fills the silence, red staining his gloves so thoroughly that all he wants is to toss them overboard. only a scrape. it is, compared to the damage done to his leg, his throat tight when he imagines the long nights of agony that kaz would never confess to, his days twice as hard now because of nikolai's misstep. the reasons to let him go stack higher each time they're together, and yet nikolai always finds excuses to draw him closer. closeness that, lately, always seems to end like this.

he unrolls fresh bandages and opens a sharp-smelling tincture — another gift from genya, all too familiar with nikolai's masterful gift of never being able to stay out of trouble — measuring several drops onto the clean fabric. after a brief coldness, it will numb the area significantly — more significantly if it wasn't a wound of merzost, but relief will be felt all the same. he proceeds to wrap kaz's leg just as kaz chooses that moment to speak, and for some loathsome reason, these words find their mark more deeply than any other exchanged tonight. nikolai's hands falter, an unattractive hitch in his breath. it's as if kaz has found the largest crack in his glass facade and decided to push. ]

Don't. [ impossible to keep the brimming emotion from his voice, a well that's threatened to spill over for weeks. ] Don't tell me that I can't. You would take this from me, too? [ he tries for a laugh, to shake this off as he always does, but what comes out sounds decidedly out of the range of a laugh, something wild straining to break free of his throat. kaz has not rebuked him, and yet it feels like it all the same. it feels like the same coddling that kaz despises, the briefest flicker of sympathy igniting in him. ] I can offer you nothing else. I can't touch you. I can't share your bed. There's no —

[ his voice breaks and he wants nothing more than to retreat below deck and sulk in peace for the rest of the night, but his pride won't allow him to look away, swinging his piercing gaze to kaz with a fierce anguish and a horrible heat building behind his eyes. ] There's no place for me here by your side. There never was. You hold the most vital pieces of my heart, and this is all I can give you in return. You nor the monster will take that from me. Even if it takes everything else. [ silence, and then a hard swallow, his eyes shuttering and his lashes suddenly — abominably — wet. ] It's taking everything else.

[ he's thankful for the shroud of night. less thankful for the glow of the lantern illuminating his misery, but kaz needs the warmth after draining half his blood into the water. he scrubs his sleeve across his face and shakes himself, resuming the careful work of bandaging his leg until the wound disappears from view, only tattered fabric and bloodstained skin remaining. ]

I'll write to Nina tomorrow. Her Fjerdan rebels can wait. I'll sail you there myself. [ he gives the flask of tea a passing glance before digging out a half-drained bottle of brandy from beneath the blankets, uncapping it and swallowing down a generous mouthful. ] Technically I'm not to set foot on Fjerdan soil — or any soil that's not Kerch without express permission from my queen — but Sturmhond is not bound by such petty orders.

[ he shifts closer, gently brushing kaz's shirt further open and dabs at the scrape. ] This one was just you being clumsy.