[ his words are unruffled and yet he watches kaz’s fingers hook briefly at his collar, a twinge of desire moving through him at the sight. has anyone else touched him in all this time? he encouraged the thought the last time they were together, though kaz seemed as resistant to the idea as ever. even now he gives away no indication that he’s thinking of it at all, sprouting some nonsense about money and business that nikolai only half listens to, too busy trying to take in the light in his eyes, trying to gauge whether his gift pleases him or not. it feels sillier now in the fading afternoon light than in the lonely hours it’d kept his hands and mind busy, something he could do when he couldn’t get the words in his head to stick to parchment.
their deal. he promised to fight, didn’t he? regretted it immediately. he saves kaz the trouble and retrieves his fallen hat, setting it beside the kaleidoscope, and begins to pace around his room, a dozen thoughts pushing at him at once. ]
I wrote because I missed you. [ that one is easy enough, and truthful. what else can be done about it, he doesn’t know. hasn’t worked the problem out that far yet. everything else feels far simpler and yet infinitely more difficult to say aloud. zoya had nearly slapped him when he had, but he’d still had bandages wound across his face at the time, the only thing that saved him from her wrath. worse than that, once they were alone, he thought she might cry. he’d rather risk her opening up his face again than see her so starkly wounded.
his ribs ache, a pain that goes ignored as he continues his trek across the room, turning at the far window and retracing his steps, arms loosely crossed over his chest. zoya must have already told him a grossly exaggerated version of events, glossing over his crimes as she is prone to do, but kaz reads the news like everyone else. it’s all true. he still gets flashes of fjerdan blood in the snow, only now it’s joined by ravkan blood in the streets, the screams of his own people trapped in his head. briefly, his gaze shutters. ]
The law should not bow to rank or status. [ something he’s believed his entire life. something his family did not. ] I spoke those words to my father the night I forced him to abdicate the throne or stand trial for his crimes and hang. So what sort of man would I be if I told myself differently now? The law should not bow to rank or status. I have two options before me, Brekker. I stand trial for my crimes and hang, or — [ unbidden, his breath catches, but it’s not the thought of death that tightens his throat. it’s the alternative. he swallows. ] Or I accept the same fate I sentenced my parents to. Exile from Ravka for the rest of my life.
[ he stops pacing, one hand on his desk, staring sightlessly at some fixed point in the room. then he lifts his eyes, an arrogant flash of gold. ] I would rather die.
[ to spend his days in the southern colonies or — anywhere else sounds like a death sentence anyway. he sighs, a bout of exhaustion hitting him as he slowly rubs his eyes. zoya had accused him of being absurdly dramatic. he resumes pacing, if a bit slower this time, tilting his head toward kaz’s gloves. ]
Have you been taking them off sometimes? [ not have you touched anyone else. he meets his gaze, something expectant there, as if to say that just because his own life has spiraled to disaster doesn’t mean that kaz is off the hook for what they’ve started. ] For simple things. A shot at the bar of the Crow Club.
Edited (nitpicks so belatedly) 2021-09-06 11:51 (UTC)
[ kaz inhales sharply. because i missed you, like it’s that simple. strange, to hear him speak it so plainly, daylight filtering through his barred windows and licking at his skin, paler than it was the last time kaz saw him. before, things had been secreted away. locked rooms, late nights. places kaz brekker understands. this, he doesn’t. if he was missed, if he was wanted — why not ask for him? or deliver on old, once broken promises? why attempt a walk to the gallows alone? as a man who has evaded the consequences of his mistakes since the very first, it’s difficult for kaz to empathise with these choices, so at odds with his own visceral determination to get everything he wants, whatever the cost.
nikolai is different. good. and guiltier for it. he thinks of how inej resisted killing for so long in service of saints who failed to protect her. and how difficult it was to keep her grounded the first time she took a life. the standards of gods and kings are outwith human reach.
for want of a distraction from nikolai’s frenetic energy, he leans over the desk, gloved fingers skating over his hat before deciding against returning it to his head. nikolai prefers you without armour. with steady hands, he retrieves the kaleidoscope and slides its velvet cover back into place. only sets it (safely) aside to start straightening the mess of papers and schematics, sorting them into piles that quickly substantiate nikolai’s sentimental affliction. letters, plural, all unfinished and half nonsensical.
when nikolai says his name, he looks over his shoulder to meet his gaze, holding it with a razored focus until his case has been made. death or exile, one evidently worse than the other. his tidying has created enough space for him to perch on the edge of the desk, so he tugs off his coat, hangs it on the chair, and leans back, bad leg crossed over his good at the ankle, a letter fragment in his lap. unable to concentrate on anything but his own name in nikolai’s hand curling under his finger. ]
[ absentmindedly, ] Here and there. [ in the matter of his gloves, a response that doesn’t welcome further inquiries. he took them off before he ever touched nikolai, after all. alone in his office, with inej in the harbour, at wylan and jesper’s home. he doubts the answer will satisfy, but it’s best not to engage when he doesn’t know what nikolai wants from him. presently, everyone in ketterdam fears what shadowy limbs might hide beneath his merchers’ blacks. let them think him more monster than man for as long as he lives.
something in the letter makes his breath catch in his throat. he pushes through it. ]
Never been overly fond of the law, [ a career criminal: liar, thief, blackmailer, con artist, kidnapper, murderer. ] or those who gave themselves the authority to write and enforce it. [ like the lantsovs. his eyes flicker to nikolai, and his mouth softens. ] But I take your point. [ that if a law exists, it should be fairly enforced. there’s some justice to the idea, just not the kind he favours. a heavy sigh. ] What you’re proposing — I want to understand it. You. [ a beat, he looks at the letter and back up again, tongue running over his teeth. ] I always do, Nikolai.
[ a sweeping gesture of his hand to the centre of the room, as if ceding the floor. the key of his voice changes, shifting from entreating to professional. ]
What charges are being brought against you? And by whom? Yourself or the families of the deceased as well? Those killed in Ravka alone — or in Fjerda, too?
[ kaz busies himself with the task of clearing his desk, and nikolai thinks to stop him, at least so he doesn't read the letters, but in the end doesn't. he barely remembers the contents of them anymore — dangerous, if he thinks about it. late night thoughts, desperate thoughts penned to paper, loneliness in the early morning light. nothing worse than kaz has heard from him before. kaz looks like a steady fixture perched at the edge of his desk, finally stripped out of some of his layers, his shirtsleeves somehow still crisp from the long voyage, dark vest tidy, a hint of skin peeking out between the cuff of his sleeve and the edge of his glove. nikolai wants to twist the chain of his pocket watch around one hand and pull for no reason other than to rumple him up a little. ]
Here and there, [ he murmurs back, ceasing his restless pacing once more. a careless answer to a question he hoped kaz would put more thought into. maybe it's enough for him, the things they shared, the private seas he crossed. but nikolai wants more for him. should he still push? he doesn't know what his future might hold, only what he thinks it should hold. doesn't know if he'll be around to hold him together if he pushes too hard. ] Don't tell me after everything you've just shuttered yourself back up. Seems we both didn't listen to the other.
[ his eyes travel down the neat line of his buttons, up to the impeccable fold of his collar. a polished look is a trait he's always respected, an immaculate part of his own persona — not that anyone could tell right now, in his (pressed, at least) trousers and bare feet — but it feels like too much after everything they've shared. but maybe he's just forgotten their gentle pace after all their time apart, too. ]
I'm only proposing justice. Zoya won't hear it. [ he turns to the heavy cabinet by his desk, retrieving a half-empty bottle of his favored brandy and two glasses, pouring generously. how long did genya say to wait after her tonic before having a drink? he can't remember. it's likely been long enough. he hands the glass to kaz, and this time allows their fingers to linger a moment, the leather warmed from his skin, before he tips back his drink. ] I'm sure they brought you to the palace by the back roads. There are people rioting in the streets for my head. Ravkans are terribly superstitious and I certainly gave them a frightening show. Nina kept things in Fjerda quiet somehow, but I wouldn't be surprised if that got out any day, too.
[ days ago, he could hear them at the palace gates. zoya put a swift end to that despite his objections that the people had a right to protest. i have a right to my sleep, she'd snarled back, refusing to discuss the matter further. he swirls the liquid in his glass, a humorless tug at his lips. ]
There are also those lamenting my plight. Some people still love me, it seems, misguided though they are. I never really had a right to it, anyway. Never had a right to any of it. Maybe I shouldn't be making such a fuss over the possibility of exile. Did you know — [ he drums his fingertips along the desk, then pushes away, pacing again. ] Did you know I don't have an ounce of Ravkan blood in me? I'm the biggest pretender of them all. I don't even have the right to love this place as much as I do, and yet here I am, acting as if it will kill me to leave it.
[ but it will. it will kill a part of him, at least, a part of him that's lived for his country for so long that he doesn't know what he would do without it. he goes to the window, gazing at the palace grounds through the bars, dappled with the late afternoon light. regret weighs heavy on his shoulders. ]
The heart worked, I think. [ at least one bit of good news he can present to kaz. ] The demon is still — peckish, in a word, but not like before. We're reaching an understanding again. The switch was what set it off last time, but nothing so bad since then. It was just a terrible amount of damage done at once. [ he grasps the bottle to refill his glass. ] Are you tired from your trip? You could rest. I'm sure they've set you up in a suite. Or — [ he returns to the desk, a short breath escaping his lips as he searches his gaze. ] Here. If you don't mind the mess. We have time, don't we? I mean — [ another pause, a quick catch of teeth at his bottom lip. ] You're staying a bit, right? In Os Alta?
[ at the accusation, one brow arches. don't tell me after everything you've just shuttered yourself back up. is that what it was about? not wanting him, but fixing him and sending him off elsewhere? a challenge, a puzzle. no, it’s not that simple. surely not, with evidence to the contrary wrinkling in his hand. his back straightens. the disappointment in nikolai’s voice rankles, threatening to summon his poison tongue. perhaps he could have done more, but why bother? who else is there to touch? saints, kaz never feels this out of control with anyone else, thoughts spiraling away from him. ]
I take them off in private, with the few I trust. And of course, Queen Ehri, who has already written songs of our torrid love affair to play on the khatuur. [ his scowl gives away that he was, in fact, more offended by that comment than he let on earlier. still, he accepts the drink, gaze drawn up to nikolai, suddenly close to him, radiating warmth where he’d been frightfully cold the last time. if kaz snagged his wrist, he could keep him here, at least for a time. could kiss him, too, just to see if he tastes the same.
when nikolai tips back his drink, kaz does the same. his gaze lingers on the apple of his throat and the curve of his jaw. hard not to think of nikolai crowding him against the counter in fjerda. ill-advised all the same. flashing hot, he sets the drink on a freshly cleared patch of desk and unbuttons one cuff at the wrist, folding the crisp fabric up to his elbow. ]
I suspected. [ in the matter of his blood, with accusations of bastardry. ] I wasn’t born in Ketterdam, either. [ his kingdom by conquering, not birthright. no others know that he didn't emerge from the harbour swathed in black. ] No one has a right to anything. Saints and kings just think they do. [ offence intended. he starts on his other sleeve, symmetry in his exposed forearms, apart from the dregs’ crow and cup tattoo decorating the interior of his right. ]
[ upon hearing the heart did its job, a flicker of relief passes over his features — the switch was what set it off last time — a swift contortion. you should have been here with him. to what? stop the demon? have his throat opened by those teeth that only grazed him the first time — heat bolts down his spine. at once shamed and wanting, nothing makes him as foolish as this man. he should have set nazyalensky’s letter on fire.
nikolai wanders close again, and kaz leans toward him without meaning to, heart thudding in his chest. the words are an unmistakable invitation. ]
[ softer, ] I could be persuaded to stay. [ a beat. he folds the letter into a neat square and tucks it into the pocket of his vest. ] But you've yet to convince me of your dire sentencing. One step at a time, Lantsov. [ however much kaz aches to forget this morbid talk and just be near him. he wants to run his fingers over each new scar — to see if his shaking pieces might reassemble in his arms. his weathered resolve keeps him from enacting such fantasies. giving into that softness won’t help him here, when nikolai has denied pleas for his life and company before. ]
Back on the stand now. [ he waves his hand out, shooing nikolai farther from him. too distracting to have him near. his questions chase the order, cutting and quick. ] Before you hang, have you requested the extradition of the khergud members responsible for killing your people? Presumably alongside the former drüskelle Grisha-hunters that Zenik hopes have a fraction of Matthias Helvar’s goodness in them. [ both hands splayed. ] Do you intend to have me indicted as your accomplice for forcing you into Fjerda against your will — call it coercion or kidnapping — and for negligence in regards to two of your escapes, one of which directly resulted in the very casualties we’re discussing?
[ the law has never been fixed, bending this way and that in the names of status, rank, connection, and mercy. nina and inej share a belief in forgiveness and change. it’s what makes them better than him.
kaz believes that nikolai is more like them than him, in this regard, and that he shows mercy to all but himself. ]
[ he knows he's being reckless with a fine line, that kaz brekker showing up out of the blue during one of his darkest moments is a thing that should be handled with gratitude and grace, and yet he can't help picking at this thread of destruction, tugging a little more each day and still tugging now. he shouldn't. if kaz has found some kind of balance between the dark isolation he found him in and the tentative contact he reaches for now, it's only a good thing. but nikolai is always hungry, never satisfied, forever curious for more. it's one of the things he's come to despise about himself. ]
A torrid love affair might do you well, Brekker. [ their gaze holds, lingering, nikolai's mouth curving into a sweet smile. he wouldn't be surprised if he found a knife wedged somewhere in his throat. glass in hand, he grazes the edge of his knuckles down kaz's knee, feels a simmer of warmth down his spine. imagines pressing his hand between his legs and coaxing him to life through his trousers. would he push him away? maybe if he keeps talking. he tries to temper the flash of jealousy in his eyes, his heart at odds with his mouth. but kaz should be pushed, even if it's away. ] I'd be curious to see if you can withstand something different.
[ regret sours his tongue once his back is turned, sipping morosely at his drink. if kaz wasn't born in ketterdam, then where? his mind hits a snag, wanting desperately to ask, but knowing he won't be graced with an answer. not yet. perhaps he can earn one. the sunlight bothers him suddenly, his mood darkening. the palace feels stifling, a sprawling, luxury prison. he wanders the grounds less and less as the weeks wear on, barred from leaving the gates, his quarters having become his entire world as of late. tolya will join him for chess or tea, tamar will drag him out to spar, but all he does with zoya lately is argue. he is mostly left alone to his morbid thoughts, except now there's kaz, asking for a reason to stay. nikolai has dozens to give him. so i can hold you. so i can kiss you. because i feel so alone. so i can spend my last days with you. because i still have to take you for a swim and show you that you don't have to be afraid.
but he says none of these things, squaring his shoulders, letting the timid softness bleed away. ] I want you to stay. But not if you're taking that damned job Zoya's attempting to pin onto you. And yes, I know she likely threatened to crush your lungs like hollow gourds if you spoke of it, but I already know she wants my captors dead. Why she asked you, of all people — [ another pause, another snag. why did she ask brekker? he looks at him again, this time uncertain. in private conversation with zoya he'd confessed to nearly everything upon his return to ravka, including a vague sort of closeness with brekker, although she'd sussed most of that out herself. his eyes drop to his tattoo, his bared skin, wondering if he touched him if he would find him warm. he shakes the thought away. can it be because of this? because zoya is tired of arguing his point and so she thought kaz might change his mind?
he circles further back at kaz's behest, suddenly presented with a wall of sound logic that he immediately doesn't want to hear. he finishes his glass again and splashes more brandy into it, then pinches the bridge of his nose until the room is quiet once more. ]
Finished? [ there's an edge to his tone. a thought dislodges from the back of his mind, one that dampens his spirits considerably. he won't want to stay. this might be the last time he sees him — the real last time. he steals a glance, trying to commit to memory this new picture of him in his chambers, perched on his desk. something he never thought he'd see. ] Casting blame on others changes nothing, Brekker. We've dealt with the victims of the khergud program. They've suffered punishment enough to last lifetimes. Let Nina show mercy to her drüskelle as she sees fit. And you — you weren't my kidnapper or my keeper. Don't be daft. I killed my own people. People I took an oath to serve and protect. I... you can't understand. I remember everything I did. I can never — [ he inhales tightly, looking away. ] Is it so preposterous that those who want justice should be allowed to have it? Maybe my captors didn't go about it in the right or lawful way, but I understand why they did it. Precisely because of this. Because the law has always bowed to rank and status. They knew the crown would protect me and that I wouldn't suffer a scratch for what I'd done.
[ a ragged breath fills his lungs, his glass shaking before he steadies his hand, eyes closing briefly against the screams in his head, the hot rush of blood in his mouth. he takes another drink, throat bobbing. then, strained, ] And not a single one of you will hear what I'm saying.
[ his gaze narrows as the full force of nikolai’s suggestion hits him, the angle of his smile all wrong. fox eyes watching his reaction, hoping its trick worked. the drag of his hand makes kaz stiffen. uncanny to have the thing he wants in a way he doesn’t want it. a quick mental calculation: nikolai is already on his third drink, while kaz sips his first. it would seem he’s even more unwell than kaz thought, being devoured from the inside by guilt and trying to dull it with brandy the way jesper always did with games of chance. the lines of kaz’s face harden, fixed in a disapproving mask, as if carved from marble.
withstand it, nikolai says, like touch is something to be endured, not wanted. hadn’t he tried to explain it wasn’t like that? it hadn’t been the exposure that worked, though the cumulative effect helped — it’d been the wanting. touch made into something trusted and desired, worth every journey to the underworld to have nikolai with him even for a second. that’s why it won’t be the same for anyone else. that’s why he never managed to overcome it before. ]
I’m no butcher. [ rasped with obvious disdain, in reference to the job zoya may or may not have offered him. harsher, then, because he can’t entirely restrain himself — ] It’s very princely of you to think that hearing your words would lead to others agreeing with them. [ a short exhale. pure exasperation. ]
I can’t understand your position, no, not entirely. [ what it’s like to be noble, driven by duty, and have enacted violence out of his control. every horrible thing kaz brekker has done was a choice. often one made alone, only jordie’s voice in his head for company. kaz stands, though he doesn't dare move nearer, not yet. ] But I very much understand what it’s like to lose someone. [ identification not with nikolai but those who sought to harm him. tension lifts his shoulders. ] The people who want justice will never be satisfied, not with your exile or your death.
[ he wasn't. because he wanted it to mean something — because revenge can’t bring his brother back from the dead. nikolai knows him well enough to surmise that his idea of justice will be similar to those who aimed to torture and kill their former king. kaz glances down at his still-gloved hands. strange to have been in this room, with this person for aching minutes and not touch him.
jordie’s loss is a wound that stings even now. made raw again and again, torn open by the possibility of losing nikolai, invoking matthias, and being tasked with another job that could endanger his crew if he chooses to take it. steeling himself, kaz swivels his focus back to nikolai and steps towards him. ]
I know you. [ a confidence that can’t be blunted in those words, paired with a sharp tilt of his chin. regardless of where kaz fits into his life, he has seen nikolai at his lowest, revealing the truth of his nature. ] You’re punishing yourself. [ self-destructive tendencies on impressive display, pushing away all who might help him. there’s no other explanation for suggesting he take a lover after being rather obviously — jealous. (it feels dangerous to acknowledge that, even in his mind, with how it implies that nikolai wants him in some singular way, but there’s no other word for it.) seconds after asking him to stay in his chambers, his bed, and directing him to those damned letters. love letters, except that’s not what they are. no idea how else to categorise them, when they seem centred on longing for him or telling him sweet, ordinary things. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and dislodging a few strands of dark hair in the process. ]
Have you considered that you’re a victim, like those in the khergud programme? [ transformed by the darkling into a ruinous animal. he thinks of inej asking him, was there no one to protect you? and how he’d snarled in response. to acknowledge being a victim at all is to admit a kind of helplessness, at odds with the pride and sense of responsibility that nikolai and kaz share. a beat. shining a light, however faint, on the deep, unacknowledged parts of someone is bound to burn. he resolves to stay the night in the rooms zoya set aside for him, even if nikolai sends him away. he can afford to lose a few days to this storm. ] If you want to be left alone with your demons, you’ll have to ask me to go outright.
[ it's different from the last time he said as much, but the sentiment remains the same. there wasn’t anyone to protect him. someone ought to look out for nikolai. and if nazyalensky also seems to think he’s the one to do it — he has to try with all his stubbornness and cleverness. ]
Edited (NITPICKS SO BELATEDLY) 2021-09-09 18:45 (UTC)
If you're no butcher, then don't take the job. [ the very thought leaves him unsettled, of kaz hunting down his would-be murderers and exacting some twisted form of justice at behest of the crown. kaz has already risked life and limb to get the heart for him. he doesn't want him running any other foolhardy jobs on his behalf. ] Those men can't be blamed for doing what they did, and they shouldn't be hunted like animals for it. I asked Zoya to pardon them, and if I need to put a gun to my head to get her to agree, then I will. She's impervious to my charm, you know.
[ he wants to backtrack and touch kaz the right way, the way he's thought about for all the time they've been apart, but he puts space between them instead, playing back the way kaz's muscles had stiffened against his knuckles over and over again in his head. when was the last time he had that reaction? maybe the very first time when he was stitching him up, when kaz was confessing to his aversions. it feels like a lifetime ago, a sea of warmer touches between it, kaz curling into his hand, eager for more. should he open that door again? he can't. it will only hurt more when he has to shut it for good. ]
They might be satisfied if I give them a very grand death. A spectacle. I think I'd be quite good at that. [ guilt pulls at him as he says it, turning away at kaz's words. i very much understand what it’s like to lose someone. would he put him through it again? he tilts his glass back, swallowing the remains before dropping into a broad armchair, rubbing a hand over his eyes. his head is starting to ache either from mixing brandy with genya's draughts, or from this conversation. you're punishing yourself. he scoffs. ] Should I be doing something else after committing crimes unspeakable against my country?
[ he freezes, then, his gaze veering sharply toward kaz, standing steps away from his desk now. his words burrow into some hurt place inside of him and grow roots as quick as zoya's lightning, too quick for him to dig them out. a victim. he stifles the urge to throw his empty glass at kaz's head, barking out an abrupt laugh to hide the flash of pain that streaks through him. is that how kaz sees him? as a botched experiment like the unfortunate grisha turned khergud? is that what he is? he rakes his fingers through his hair, slumping down as he traces the stitches lining his face, his glass dangling from one hand before he lets it drop to the floor with a thud, rolling several paces away. a heavy sigh sinks his chest. ]
Go, then. I didn't ask for you. [ his eyes slip shut, a barrage of memories fighting to break free. open skies around him, blood spilling down his throat, the give of flesh beneath his claws, kaz's warm lips against his mouth. his brow tightens. ] Only in my dreams. The ones that aren't nightmares. In the ones where I'm still — [ another snag. his mind swims, the room tilting when his lashes flutter open. tries to sit up, but his body feels heavy. no. he doesn't want to waste this time he has because he doesn't know how long kaz will stay. not long, with the way he's speaking to him. ] In the ones where I'm still a prince, and only a moderate amount of people want me dead, and you and I still — [ have each other. if they ever did. ] Spent time in the sun.
[ he searches for kaz's gaze with some difficulty, but his stare is piercing once it finds its mark. he turns his palm up. ] Come here?
[ kaz shakes his head. if nikolai truly wanted his advice, he would offer it, and it would be the same as it’s been since he first saw the nichevo'ya: a monster isn’t such a bad thing to be. if nikolai tells his people the truth of what he is, he could spend the rest of his life protecting them from the worse things waiting in this world. ]
[ immediately, ] Both you and Nazyalesnky should take this to your generals. [ not the bastard of the barrel, but he suspects zoya planned to do so already, after cleverly or foolishly sending him to disarm nikolai. he doubts general safin or the others will be swayed by the emotionality of the appeals on either side of the once king and current queen’s debates. more likely they’ll settle for something even-handed. ] Punishing yourself only serves your guilt, not the needs of the people. If Nazyalensky heeds your counsel, she’ll harm herself and Ravka by pardoning those who attacked you and, in turn, the crown. [ a broad gesture toward nikolai and then back to himself. ] And if I hunt down your people, she’ll rule like a gangster, not a queen — which I admire, but that’s a matter of personal taste.
[ a wry tip of his head, neutrality forced in the face of nikolai’s insistence. his stomach has already twisted into knots and tangles over the course of this conversation. kaz expects to be thrown out by force — as nikolai pushed him the night in novyi zem — or with a curt dismissal. the latter comes and catches him in the vulnerable place between his ribs. hurt flashes across his features (fitting in his widened eyes and the tight downturn of his mouth) before he can hide it. i didn’t ask for you. no, he didn’t. in fact, nikolai sent him away in the first place, a horrified look on his face at the mere thought of kaz brekker coming to ravka. kaz knew that, and he came, anyway, without thought or reason.
you knew this would push him. the same way his refusal to hand over the jurda parem to jesper sparked a fight between them. his delivery of truths like this has always been at the wrong angle, a jagged blade wielded awkwardly. he'll argue with nikolai until the other sees the value of his own life, but a creature enshadowed can only take so much sunlight in one day. tomorrow, he can try again. kaz takes another step, this time toward the door, before nikolai’s words still him. in dreams, in letters; that’s where nikolai kept him. places full of fantasies he knows can’t be made reality, with his crown lost forever. it’s not so different from the dreams and imagined conversations kaz held without him, or the unsayable things trapped in his throat even now, like i missed you from the moment i woke up without you, i haven’t wanted to touch anyone but you, i waited so long for an excuse to write you that it seemed like i didn’t think of you but i did, i do. ]
If you had asked for me, I would have come. [ firmer, ] I would have come for you. [ as he crosses to nikolai, he tugs the glove from his left hand and slips it into his trouser pocket. that’s how kaz finally reaches for him, bare skin sliding against his outstretched fingers, cupping the back of his hand and curling his thumb into the centre of nikolai’s palm, breath caught in his throat. a gesture of affection, brushing up against the old boundaries erected between them. in an effort to keep his voice even and expression controlled, kaz speaks slowly. ] To my knowledge, I’m not secretly a prince — and I’ve no interest in becoming one. [ by pursuing queen ehri or anyone else. there might be an apology for suggesting otherwise in the slight purse of his mouth. ] But I could help with some of your other dreams. [ brows lifting. ] Or nightmares. [ the romantic dreams hinted at just now, certainly, but also the kind that have allowed nikolai to consider the nuance of his person. neither entirely stalwart and true, nor a wholly condemnable monster. his thumb brushes along the lines of nikolai’s palm. ] If you ask.
[ he's quiet through kaz's counsel, the truth of his words sinking past his unreasonable obstinacy, forcing himself to look past his own sentiment. when he passed his crown to zoya, he told her he would be there for her every step of the way, and he can't sit idle now and allow her to compromise her rule on account of the two of them being equal parts bullheaded. he's broken enough oaths that he can't watch this one fall through his fingers as well. ]
We'll take the matter to our generals. I'll not have our people turn on our first Grisha queen as well. Not Zoya. [ it's the last thing they need after he's made such a mess of things already. he doesn't think about what an execution of a former lantsov king — one like him, different from the rest — would do to her rule. not yet. not when he's still unwilling to let that particular thought go. the old, petulant thought comes back around again. why should he have to give up everything? when he opens his eyes again, kaz is closer to the door than before, and the sight fills his chest with a sudden ache. ridiculous. he'll be in a suite mere halls away. somehow that thought is even worse than when oceans separate them.
then kaz turns, and he speaks, and nikolai's breath catches somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. is he drunk? he's not. he's just having some sort of reaction from mixing tonics and brandy. he's made stupid from having kaz brekker in his bedchambers. his guilt is killing him, his grief over people he'll never know but should have protected. he's so angry at himself, and he doesn't know how to put any of this into words that doesn't make him sound like a daft bastard. like a victim. ]
You came anyway. [ it wasn't because he didn't want to ask. he couldn't. ] I wanted to spare you from all of this. [ from me. at his best, his excellence is unmatched. but here, at his worst — he wouldn't wish this on anyone. he very nearly draws his hand away despite having asked kaz to come closer, watching his pale, nimble fingers slip from dark leather and curl his hand into his. the tenderness of the gesture makes nikolai wants to tear his skin off, to break down into tears. kaz sees so much, nearly everything, so why can't he see that he can't take this? nikolai seizes his wrist, a different sort of guilt seeping into his cracks at how roughly he handles him, how sudden his touch is, how little time he gives him to process. his palm burns from where kaz's thumb traced over the lines there, an affection he doesn't deserve. ] It's not so simple as just asking.
[ a moment of hesitation, and then he tugs kaz forward, gripping the back of his thigh as he pulls him into the chair, maneuvering him to straddle his hips. with kaz in such close proximity now it feels like a physical ache every moment that passes when he doesn't kiss him. he refrains, sitting back, letting him settle — if he can — his thumb tracing from the inside of his wrist up to the cuffed sleeve at his elbow, passing over the dregs tattoo at his arm. ]
Has no one touched you in all this time? Have you not sought it out? [ his voice is hushed, no pity or judgment in his tone this time. he can't. and yet his hand moves unbidden, fingers at kaz's throat to dig beneath the fabric of his tie, pulling it loose. he flicks open the buttons of his collar, fingertips dipping inside to briefly trace the lines of his collarbones. all places achingly familiar to him. his hand grips his shirt, drawing kaz nearer, his eyes fixed on his mouth. in a moment he pushes him back, steadies himself, his hand gliding up kaz's jaw to caress his cheek, sliding into his hair. ] Have you forgotten what it is to want?
[ kaz stills, expression sharp even in its neutrality. any comment about coming for work or pay is silenced by nikolai’s explanation for why he never asked. he understands the difficulty in that better than anyone. ]
I’d rather not be spared. [ from this or any other ugliness. no one can protect anyone else in this world, not really, but his thoughts stumble over those who’ve tried to shield him, anyway. jordie, inej, nikolai — distracted as he is, kaz only catches the edge of nikolai’s discomfort before his grip shifts, a sudden shock of skin-to-skin. his head tips to the side on instinct, uncertainty in the angle. the last time nikolai caught him wholly off guard, he nearly had his throat torn open — but there’s no hint of the demon in his eyes now. every nerve lights up under nikolai’s touch, skin cool in the air, then hot against the contagion of fevered skin. dead hands — scorched fingers bypass flesh to catch on bone, nikolai’s thumb chasing the pulse in his arm like he can control it. maybe he can.
the room is too bright. this is too close, too fast. it’s also not close or fast enough. it’s unwise. nikolai has been drinking, spiralling, turning from friendly to punishing in the span of a coin flip. yet touches kaz has gone without for years, then only months, dangle within his grasp. all he has to do is take it.
heart like a clenched fist, kaz allows his weight to settle, heavy and warm in nikolai’s lap. they’ve been more exposed than this but not in some time, old anxieties skittering to the surface, a deep-set alarm ringing at the back of his skull. he can feel the tide rolling in, like it always does. his spine pulls taut and then slackens with effort, lips pressed together in concentration.
skin and leather sweep down nikolai’s chest, a slow and careful drag. in a sense, he has forgotten the hunger that comes from closeness, engrossed now in the sweep of nikolai’s golden lashes, the new scars on his face, and the familiar lines of his chest.
kaz presses his bare palm to nikolai’s sternum, pushing him down, and catches his wrist in a still-gloved hand, fingers tight against his pulse, though he doesn’t drag him away. if anyone else had touched him so brazenly, he’d have snapped their wrist. nikolai isn’t just anyone. kaz loosens his grip on nikolai’s wrist, braceletting up his arm and then letting go. his eyes close as fingers rake through his tidy hair. ]
Nothing I wanted was within my reach. [ quiet but sure. a roundabout about way of saying yes and no. he hasn’t sought out anyone — has actively turned down the few brave enough to lay a curious hand on his arm, in fact. his eyes flash like sunlit ice. ] But I didn’t forget. [ want. you. those things are synonymous. his hand hovers for a moment, then, before it flutters up nikolai’s throat and settles under the fine angle of his jaw, thumbing over the bone.
from there, it’s too easy to kiss him, so kaz does, guided both by the memory of it and a renewed hunger for this, him. not gentle like his touch had been, need shaking his composure. seawater fills his boots. ] I brought something for you. [ slipped in between one breathless kiss and another. a gift, he doesn’t say, though that’s what it is. tangible proof that he couldn’t stop thinking of nikolai or seeking him out, even though he didn’t — couldn’t write. ]
[ for a moment kaz is the skittish animal again and nikolai is sure he'll run away. the thread of guilt weaves deeper. he's not making this easy or comfortable in the way he endeavored so valiantly to before. he wants kaz to go as much as he wants him to stay, dual outcomes as nonsensical as the way he pulls him closer, as kaz's hands ends up roaming over him, tracing over bandages and stitches and skin as if mapping out the new lines of his territory. his bare fingers warm against nikolai's flushed skin, his touch careful, as intentional as always. nikolai thinks of the water, the floating bodies marked with the queen's lady plague. he'd read a thick text about all the gory details a month ago, holed up in the palace library in the dead of night, an effort to chase his own demons away. it'd only made him miss brekker more. ]
Because you're stubborn. [ he doesn't want brekker to want anyone else. and yet he can't have him want only him. he closes his eyes when kaz's hand presses to his throat, knowing he's going to kiss him, knowing he shouldn't let him. for both of their sakes, this door should stay closed, and yet he's too weak to slam it shut when kaz pries it open, wants it too badly to do anything but meet his mouth, a current of need streaking through him. ] I don't want it. [ it feels good, and that knowledge feels terrible, his fingers digging bruises into kaz's hip as an aching sigh sinks his chest. ] I can't.
[ it's all wrong. he should be overjoyed to have this — kaz in his arms, kaz in his bedchambers, kaz kissing him first and braving the waters after months of untouched solitude, but the pieces are all misplaced, scattered and breakable in his hands. it's a thing he shouldn't be allowed to handle, not anymore, not with hands stained with blood that may as well be as permanent as the scars marking his skin. kaz tastes like sweet brandy, the familiar scent of the sea still clinging to him from his voyage, sending a pang of longing rattling through his bones. to be back on his ship with him, before all of this, hidden away in their private corner of the vast ocean — he would give anything to go back to it right now, even just for a day, a night, an hour. anything to be away from here. maybe he should leave and simply find some way to contend with losing his first and truest love, a thing that will never love him back. no. that would be dying anyway. better it be a noose or a firing squad.
his mouth slides away as he slumps back, fingers catching onto the buttons of kaz's shirt, eyes closing briefly. when his lashes flutter open again, his hazel eyes are pits of black, but he doesn't move, doesn't blink, memories surging violently through his mind as fractured lines of wispy darkness spread from the corners of his eyes to flicker down his cheeks like a mockery of tears. the taste of blood floods his mouth, faces flashing before him, a new horror unearthed. they're endless inside of him, hidden away in places he can't reach, can't remember, not until the demon digs them out and shows him what he's done. each is worse than the last, new faces, new screams, new crimes that no forgiveness exists for. his breath spools out of him as the darkness recedes, his eyes lightening, his skin unmarred, white-knuckling his composure lest he fall apart in the haze of the evening sunlight with kaz right here in his lap.
he can feel kaz's eyes on him but can't meet his gaze, a tremor gripping his throat. can't speak. the guilt is as heavy as the irons he wears at night. he swallows once, lifts his gaze, manages to make it as far as kaz's lips. good enough. a rough hand reaches for kaz's jaw, drawing him into a hard kiss, his tongue pushing into his mouth while his fingers grip his hair. this is how he can forget, if only for a moment. his free hand snakes between them, his palm pressing into the fork of kaz's thighs, teeth nipping sharply at his bottom lip. ]
This is what you wanted? [ a breathless murmur as he drags his mouth down the sharp cut of his jaw, suckling at his throat. ] This is what you came here for, isn't it? [ not to see him cowed and broken, a far cry from the man who could lead him out of the waters. the man he is now is better off dead even if everyone else refuses to see it. he can still pretend that there is some value left in him, still be something that kaz might look upon without pity. what is he if not the greatest pretender of all? his fingers undo the top two buttons of kaz's shirt, tongue immediately tracing his collarbone. ] Tell me. Why did you come? Because you can't let anyone else do this?
Mm. [ as if nikolai doesn’t have a talent for stubbornness, too. another item in the list of things they share and, therefore, understand too well. it’s easier to stomach that truth than what follows. i don’t want it knocks his heart off beat. the present, this, kaz? probably all three — or at least nikolai thinks he doesn’t deserve them, which isn’t exactly the same thing. he surmises that can’t here means something more along the lines of shouldn’t. there’s no denying the desire in his kiss, the give in how nikolai’s whole body sighs into kaz, or the bruising grip pulling him closer.
still, kaz holds back as nikolai drops away. his own eyes widen and then narrow when they meet the black of the demon — nikolai — of whatever they are when working in tandem. can’t hide the fascination in the way his gaze tracks the dark veins spiderwebbing over pale skin. all signs of danger, instability, slippage and yet he can’t tear himself away. a little thrill chases his nerves out, dulled only by the concern bubbling low in his gut. not for the first time, he wonders where nikolai and the nichevo'ya interlock and split. no doubt there’s too much alignment for nikolai’s liking.
nothing to do but wait for the moment to pass or transmute into something violent. kaz spares a thought for the flashbang in his trousers and the oyster knife up his sleeve. the latter would be more useful at close range, reluctant as he is to use it. before he has to make that call, nikolai grapples his way back, the green of fresh fields back in his eyes. kaz loses himself in it for precious seconds.
during that time, clever hands make quick work of his buttons, then singe his skin. a choked sound fractures any attempt at nonchalance, tongue soothing over his bottom lip where nikolai reddened it. the muscles in his thighs tense as he grinds into the pressure of nikolai’s palm, savouring the friction that comes with the roll of his hips. he wants more. he always does — even when nikolai’s tongue trails conflicting sensations over his skin. flesh wet and rotting. no, a slick warmth that can only come from closeness. he shudders without knowing which feeling prompted it.
at least if nikolai is pushing him, he’s an active party in this. ]
You’d like it to be that simple. [ but you shouldn’t ask kaz brekker questions with difficult answers, if you aren’t prepared to hear them. fortunately or unfortunately, kaz brekker thinks of himself and nikolai as more complex actors than all that. a question of wanting, not letting, is at the core of this. the distinction flares in his mind again. ]
I came because you’d never ask. [ a variation on something nikolai said to him once. his gloved hand winds into nikolai’s hair and yanks his head back abruptly. cool air bites where his collarbone is left bereft of nikolai's mouth. ] Because you’re stubborn. And you won’t let anyone else — [ this close. inside his ever-whirring mind. irritation cuts across his features, more at himself than nikolai, for falling for nazyalensky’s little trick. why else would she write him and rush him into nikolai’s chambers? keep focused.
they’re circling each other, he decides, seeing how far they can pull the tether between them until it snaps. (how the hell does it never seem to snap.) with a tug, kaz harshens the angle of nikolai’s neck and leans over him to test the give, anyway. ] I choose to let you do this because it’s what I want. And thieves — even more than princes — get what they want. [ another demanding kiss attempts to prove his point, though his bare fingers only hook into nikolai’s waistband, skimming around his hip to catch on the clasp of his trousers. with months between their last touches, he can't just leap into deep waters, all too aware of what awaits him beneath the waves. ]
[ he very nearly barks out a laugh at the sheer absurdity of kaz's words. is he turning his own accusations back around onto him? kaz is the one who always has to be prompted to ask for anything. kaz is the one with walls higher than the tallest trees in ravka. and yet even as he bristles against kaz's unforgiving grip, he knows these things are no longer true, at least not for him. kaz has met and exceeded each one of his challenges, every request to ask, every demand to open his walls. enough time has passed — enough things have been said — that it's likely they'll have to start again, but that doesn't change everything that's already transpired between them. it doesn't change that kaz is infuriatingly right.
his temper flares, anger and desire rushing into one pulsing line. it's a rare thing for his fury to slip its leash, always carefully controlled beneath glib remarks and unaffected confidence, but his unwavering restraint has worn thin over the last several months, and of course kaz brekker is coarse enough of a stone to fray his threads completely. even zoya hadn't managed such a feat. he strains against kaz's hold, pushing into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut but not before they flood black, then hazel once more. the sharp point of his teeth catch onto kaz's bottom lip, drawing blood, staining his own mouth red. ]
You don't know what you want. [ make him go. kaz's fingers dip shallowly into his trousers, a prelude to something more, something nikolai has thought about a hundred times in this very room, in the bed mere feet from where they sit. but kaz does know. it's in his kisses and his touches and the cautious way he intends to undress him. nikolai shakes the thought away, ignores the ache between his legs. ] Do you think that you really know me, Brekker? That a few weeks on my ship and a good fuck somehow mean that you know what's best for me now?
[ his throat feels raw. he wants to lay his head in kaz's lap again, wants to feel his hand in his hair while the sea rocks gently beneath them. he wants him to lie and say that it will all be all right. instead of asking for comfort he reaches blindly for kaz's shirt, prying his fingers between the neat closure of his vest and forcing it open, sending the rest of his buttons scattering to the floor. he grips his tie and yanks him down, breath hot against the shell of his ear. ]
You've only just discovered what wanting really is. Don't force your way in here and act as if you can hold my hand through anything. [ something squeezes tight around his heart, cold and painful. a crinkle rustles in kaz's vest when it gets caught between their bodies. one of his letters tucked away in his pocket, a flood of nighttime memories, trying valiantly to compose his thoughts, to sort out his longing. his breath grows short, nothing to do with desire. make him go. he can taste kaz's blood in his mouth. ] I'm done holding yours.
[ the angrier nikolai is, the more alive he is, overtaken by feelings he can’t shut out or rationalise. it’s helpful, to a point — almost preferable to the hollow thing he’s been at other low moments.
the coppery taste of blood fills kaz’s mouth, more familiar than not, and air hisses between his teeth. this isn’t the gentle, careful nikolai from the first or last time. you need to be careful warns the voice at the same moment nikolai proves it. his hand stills. if there’s one thing that isn’t true, it’s the first of nikolai’s slashes. kaz brekker has always known what he wanted, even when that wanting diverged from his original purpose as a vengeful spirit.
in this moment, he knows what he wants better than nikolai, who has been contradictory for some time. this is just that tendency honed to a fine blade, slotted between kaz’s ribs and twisted with intent to harm. kaz can see it for what it is, though that does nothing for the pain. better to pause and review the evidence, swirling before him like the stones in that stupid kaleidoscope: nikolai asking him to leave the job and ravka, then stumbling over an invitation to stay in his room, in his bed. a request that he leave was followed by the very ask that drew him into nikolai’s lap.
logical thoughts scatter as nikolai ruins his new vest — for fuck’s sake — and seizes his tie, constricting his throat. you wrote me letters you said there was nothing better than me waiting you lied and lied and lied.
if kaz’s tongue is poison, nikolai’s is silver. he knows this, having spent weeks searching for pearls of truth in all his blethering. with nikolai wanting and threatening in his ear now, he closes his eyes. fighting the rip current only hastens drowning. kaz withdraws his hand from nikolai’s trousers and instead curls it at his wrist, prepared to break it away from his tie, his throat, if necessary. as he licks the blood from his lips, his breath evens its pace without slowing. ]
I’m not some toy you have to break to rid yourself of it. [ bitten out, hurt hidden the in the relentless grind of his rasp. that’s what all this is, isn’t it? he’s not performing as expected or wanted, so the little prince is tossing him at the nearest wall in frustration. ] I knew you from the moment I met you. [ a prince in privateer’s clothes. ] And I’ve told you what I want. [ you, whole and hale, whether that’s in his arms or someone else’s (though he certainly has a preference). evenly — ] So if you want me to go, you have to ask.
[ the other accusations range from absurd — that he was just a good fuck, when he was probably anything but that, all shaking hands and towering walls — to dangerously accurate. i’m done holding your hand strikes deep in his marrow, memories of intertwined fingers recurring through the whole of their entanglement. kaz had been exposed that first time on the ship, bleeding out and terrified of a healer’s hands. had accepted nikolai’s help, his touch in the times they collided after that. impossible to stop his old shame from resurfacing, weakness inherent in his inability to touch others freely, even now.
of course a thing like him can't walk this path beside nikolai, but he can try to turn him in the right direction (away from him, back toward his generals and nazyalensky). he lets his head fall into nikolai’s shoulder to slacken the fabric at his throat, smelling not sweat and salt — only decay. the chill down his spine is just that. a fear response.
he needs to leave. ]
Ask — [ his breath catches, and he hates himself for it. ] Ask for what you want.
[ because he won’t be cajoled into a retreat. his stubbornness will trigger the sickness or force nikolai to send him away openly, whichever comes first. ]
[ ask for what you want. panic seizes him. ask. how? there are too many wants tangled in his throat, always have been, choked down in favor of what he needed to be. this isn't like asking for fine brandy or asking for unerring loyalty or asking for forgiveness as a child for dropping a cannonball off the palace roof and into his mother's rose garden. (he'd never asked for the last one.) what does he really want? death. life. an end to this loneliness, a way out of this grief. he wants to pull the hurt from kaz's words, to turn his face into his dark hair and find a hiding place there. he wants to soothe a kiss to that familiar space at his throat, right beneath his ear where he used to hide a bruise away, something just for the two of them. he wants to hold his hand.
this is all wrong, and he's the one making it so. is it finally broken now? his heart rabbits in his chest, unease in every beat, shame tightening his throat. it has to be this way. kaz will understand, with time. but doubt sours that thought behind the truth of what he's known for some time now — kaz brekker's heart is perhaps the most fragile thing he's ever held in his hands. nikolai can take heartbreak, soldier on, coexist with his misery and wear a smile while he does. he'll find a way to get what he wants. but the same question he's asked himself since the start still plagues him now. will kaz ever allow anyone to touch him like this again? will he ever try to overcome this with anyone else or will he live shuttered away and untouched until the end of his days? will that be his fault, too?
his fingers loosen, slackening the pull of his tie. he feels weak, and weakness gives the chance for the demon to take hold. he can feel it now, pressing into the corners of his mind, always ready, always there. he can't afford to be anything but resolute, and yet he's done nothing this entire time but waver — and he's wavering now, feeling that barely perceptible tremor in the muscles of kaz's body, the chill on his skin, the hitch in his breath. everything has changed and yet nothing at all. ask for what you want. ]
Don't. [ his hand ghosts along kaz's spine, his fingers trembling, eyes pressing shut as his voice drops. ] Don't leave me alone with my shadow. You told me — it's grown with every wrong, and I can't see the light anymore.
[ the suli proverb, shared the very first time he ever laid hands on brekker, stitching his insides back together. he hasn't forgotten a word of it. doesn't believe a word of it. and still it holds true. fix this. he'll go off to die and kaz might never make sense of this, might spend his entire life thinking that he can't best this after all, that there will never be another place for his want. the thought is unbearable. why did zoya bring him here? why did he come? he twists, rising, depositing kaz into the plush armchair in a rumpled heap, and for a moment he hovers over him, knee pressed between his legs, hands locked on the armrests as he cages him in, his mouth close enough to kiss. kaz looks like he's going to be sick, like the tide is licking at his feet and he can't move away fast enough.
the demon closes in and nikolai skitters back, eyes glassy and hollow, pitch black. fleeting darkness flickers down his skin. he stumbles to his desk amidst the roars in his head, snatching a sheaf of paper as he begins a furious sketch, a woman with pale hair and down-turned eyes, then another, this one a man with a scraggly beard and wild brows. a child clutching a wooden toy in the likeness of a firebird. someone's grandmother wearing a faded headscarf. he crosses the room and pushes the drawings frantically at kaz, sinking to his knees before the armchair as he hastily scrawls another, his eyes burning fever green again, his breath shuddering with memories abruptly dislodged. ]
I have to find these people. No — their families. I have to. [ the pages slip to the floor as he presses his forehead to kaz's bad leg, his hand curling around his ankle. guilt rises like bile in his throat. he has no right. he should be alone. tell him to go. something chokes his words, the truth of what he wants spilling out before he can snatch it back. ] Stay with me. I — please, just stay with me.
[ the sickness hadn’t been as bad with nikolai before, certainly not the last time they were together. and it hadn’t been overwhelming in ketterdam, either, not the day jesper stretched an arm across his shoulders and kaz allowed him to keep it there for the length of their walk. it’s because you don’t trust him. not the way he trusts inej and jesper, not right now, with his movements as unpredictable as a spin of makker's wheel. it’s more like the last time he drowned in this, surrounded on all sides by the unbearable heat of human bodies and called forth by inej’s words, even as they stutter from another’s mouth. he should have seen her before he came here. she might have known what to do without him telling her a damn thing. after this, he’ll write her. routing out slavers might do him good after this messy affair.
his skin burns as nikolai handles him. you need to leave. but that would require standing — not to mention reneging on the deal he made with nikolai at the start of that endless job and renewed in this very room. face pale and pupils dilated, kaz tips his head back to regard him with jagged curiosity. which nikolai is the one leaning over him now? one that wants him close, for whatever reason.
nikolai’s eyes blacken in answer. dinner it is, he thinks darkly, slipping the knife from his sleeve. at the point nikolai hits the desk, however, he sheathes it again. kaz pushes himself upright in the chair, though he very nearly regrets it, stomach flipping even without the pressure of nikolai’s bare skin on his. you can’t hold him through this. can’t hold anyone at all, but he can soldier on, as he always has.
his gaze follows nikolai as he slips his tie from his neck and lets it fall to his lap, wrinkled atop two buttons from his vest. the price of his various gambles tonight. not too bad a loss, all things considered, with but a dash of his own blood in his mouth. he cards a hand back through his hair, quick though it is to flop forward when he drops his arm to the side of the chair, open palm smushed into his cheek. again, he wonders who approaches him now — luckily, the wildness in nikolai’s eyes give him away.
years of honing his reflexes prompt him to grab for two of the sketches before they flutter away, squinting at them in the fading light. so these are the ghosts that haunt nikolai. the child and its toy give him pause, pulling disparate threads in his mind. he and jordie left alone in the city. rollins’ little pigeon with his wind-up toy that kaz rammed down his throat. ]
[ in a rough approximation of his usual dry tone — ] That was the plan. [ good to finally have you on board, lantsov. his mouth twists into a scowl. ] Before you bit me. [ like a feral dog. or a puppy, kneeling and bent into him, keenly aware it did wrong. kaz waits for the tell of another swing to cruelty, or for his own nausea to overtake him, rippling out from where nikolai clasps the knot of bone at his ankle. when the waters calm, he sighs and threads his gloved hand through nikolai’s hair. ]
They [ the royal they: zoya, tamar and tonya, genya and the rest of his crew. ] won’t let you out of their sight long enough to find anything. [ let alone people with reason to hasten him along to the end he so desires. ] I could help with that… but I usually make deals with men who intend to live long enough to see them through. [ still a touch green, the look on his face is no less cutting. if nikolai means to die, he’ll get no help from kaz with his unfinished business. ]
[ he half expects to find the chair empty, the room empty, for kaz to have slipped out like a silent ghost, having taken enough of nikolai's failings. but he's still here. his eyes shut tightly against his trousers when he feels the gentle thread of soft leather in his hair. it's not forgiveness. he won't even think of it and damn well won't ask. but for the briefest of moments he allows himself this small grace, to remain tethered here in the quiet, as if kaz brekker can keep his demons at bay if only he just stays here with him.
the reminder that he is a prisoner here stings. this is his palace, his home. zoya is being ridiculously dramatic, but still he will grudgingly defer to her command because she is his queen and one of the few people he wholeheartedly trusts. but just because he’s been commanded to stay put doesn’t mean he’s made any promises to do so.
finally, in a beleaguered mutter — ] Stop trying to run game on me, Brekker. I’m no pigeon plucked from a Ravkan alley, and I won’t fall for your cons when you dress them as terms agreeable only to you. [ his eyes stray to the fallen papers. ] But I can’t go yet. Not if I’m going to try to make amends. And I do need your help.
[ he doesn’t realize he’s made up his mind until the words leave his mouth, brow furrowed and his cheek pressed to kaz’s knee, his fingers trailing absently up the line of his calf. a plan. the barest bones of one, at least. something to hold onto. logic and reason have been his only defense against the monster for these long years, and he has to hold onto them now despite the sorrow that threatens to drag him into the dark.
there is atonement that needs to be made in this room, too, for words said — for words unsaid — for the blood in his mouth and the perilous sickness he’s now making worse instead of better. kaz may never get in the water with him now. surely not when he realizes that nikolai intends to leave him untethered, if he hasn’t worked out already that there is no changing his mind. but kaz is as stubborn as he is. he might let him go, but he doubts he’ll let him get what he wants.
cautiously, he looks up, setting his chin at the edge of his knee. he should tell him to go back to his room, that he’s fine now, that he’d rather be alone. flimsy lies that kaz will see through, or maybe he’s been contrary enough that kaz won’t know what to believe anymore. wishful thinking. kaz looks as discerning as ever, even with his eyes a touch too wide, his skin too glassy. nikolai can’t help but feel as though everything between them has just been undone.
maybe not everything. kaz hasn’t kicked him away yet, after all. ]
I know my way around every corner of this palace. Between the two of us, I’m fairly certain we could sneak away for a night or two. We’d just have to dress as — stablehands, or something equally nondescript. No dramatic blacks or fitted vests. [ he pauses, eyeing kaz’s now buttonless vest and rumpled shirt, then brings his gaze to the bright smear of blood at his mouth. he flexes his fingers, trying to quell the desire that rises in him. it can’t lead anywhere good. ]
Stay. I don’t sleep much these days. [ he looks away, blackened fingers gentling over the bone of his ankle, sliding along the fabric of his sock. a new guilt weighs at his shoulders. ] But I won’t… I won’t touch you. You’ll have to find that elsewhere now. I want you to have that again. But it won’t be with me.
[ yet, nikolai says, at the end of refusing his thinly veiled deal, and kaz knows he still means to die. nikolai touches him even as he claims he can’t — as he outlines a plan of his own and asks him to stay. the gentle drag of his finger now burns more than the bite, the bruising grip on his tie. fitting that softness, of all things, is what snaps the tether. ]
No. [ he lets that hang in the air, fighting for his former composure and hardness. no, he won’t stop running cons. it’s who he is, unable to approach anything from an open angle. selfish, unfair, unpredictable. no, he won’t help nikolai unless the terms of the deal suit him. ] You forget who I am. [ you let him forget. giving into the very weakness that dirtyhands has exploited in his enemies hundreds of times. no more. ]
It doesn’t matter what you want for me, Nikolai, only what you can offer me. [ jaw clinched, he slides his hand from nikolai’s hair and pulls his other glove from his pocket, tugging it onto his hand.
his unkindnesses don’t bely an intent to push nikolai to change his mind. even if nikolai wanted to, kaz couldn’t allow any more taction than this. his eyes darken, committing nikolai’s weary features to memory. are you pleased with yourself, sobachka, for breaking your things. he sets about buttoning his shirt, all the way to the collar, though there’s nothing to be done for the vest. ]
You were a king once. [ if nikolai doesn’t want his mercy, then he’ll be treated like everyone else and subject to his poison tongue. ] Negotiate. With me. [ a pointed look. ] And Zoya. [ purposefully invoking how nikolai addresses her. kaz tried to face nikolai alone on the last job; a mistake he won’t make twice. his series of missteps led them here, after all. ] Tell me why I should help you, when I can leave the palace at any time through the front door — in my own clothes.
[ and go somewhere else. ketterdam, shu-han, fjerda. anywhere i won’t have to help you to your end. to prove his point, he stands, carelessly shaking nikolai and his sketches off in the process. from there, he swiftly crosses back to the desk. the greater the distance from this man, the clearer his mind. already, it rids him of the lingering discomfort from his closeness (and proximity to death). as soon as his coat hangs within reach, he pulls it snug across his shoulders. leave, he tells himself, but his mouth bites out more of its own accord. ]
Your competitors would at least pay me to douse her — the first Grisha queen, the first Suli queen — with the blood of the last Lantsov king. [ rather than asking him to abide it, free of charge. it’s phrased as cruelly he intends it. nikolai’s desire for martyrdom will do irreparable damage to nazyalensky’s reign. her extreme precautions in keeping him here serve both her affection for him and her shrewdness in keeping hold of a crumbling throne. it’s what kaz would do, in her shoes. if he also recognises that inej and jesper would never forgive a betrayal that staggering, he tells himself that isn’t a factor in his refusal to do so. ] And she’ll pay me to stop you, so you’ll need to win us both over. [ he reaches into his pocket, retrieving a box small enough to be held in one hand and throwing it at nikolai’s head. ] Luckily, you don’t sleep much, so you have all night to build your case.
[ and to attempt to crack the puzzle box that protects his present, though the puzzle was meant to be part of the gift itself, since nikolai likes them most of all. kaz chokes down his desire to watch him crack it. most likely, he’ll chuck it in the fucking bin.
for a moment, he hovers by the door, awaiting an answer. even if it’s just a continuation of the fight they’ve been having since novyi zem, this is more than he’s had of nikolai in months, and with every step he comes closer to throwing it away — to breaking his word.
he’ll return when morning comes. surely that’s enough, after all this. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
their deal. he promised to fight, didn’t he? regretted it immediately. he saves kaz the trouble and retrieves his fallen hat, setting it beside the kaleidoscope, and begins to pace around his room, a dozen thoughts pushing at him at once. ]
I wrote because I missed you. [ that one is easy enough, and truthful. what else can be done about it, he doesn’t know. hasn’t worked the problem out that far yet. everything else feels far simpler and yet infinitely more difficult to say aloud. zoya had nearly slapped him when he had, but he’d still had bandages wound across his face at the time, the only thing that saved him from her wrath. worse than that, once they were alone, he thought she might cry. he’d rather risk her opening up his face again than see her so starkly wounded.
his ribs ache, a pain that goes ignored as he continues his trek across the room, turning at the far window and retracing his steps, arms loosely crossed over his chest. zoya must have already told him a grossly exaggerated version of events, glossing over his crimes as she is prone to do, but kaz reads the news like everyone else. it’s all true. he still gets flashes of fjerdan blood in the snow, only now it’s joined by ravkan blood in the streets, the screams of his own people trapped in his head. briefly, his gaze shutters. ]
The law should not bow to rank or status. [ something he’s believed his entire life. something his family did not. ] I spoke those words to my father the night I forced him to abdicate the throne or stand trial for his crimes and hang. So what sort of man would I be if I told myself differently now? The law should not bow to rank or status. I have two options before me, Brekker. I stand trial for my crimes and hang, or — [ unbidden, his breath catches, but it’s not the thought of death that tightens his throat. it’s the alternative. he swallows. ] Or I accept the same fate I sentenced my parents to. Exile from Ravka for the rest of my life.
[ he stops pacing, one hand on his desk, staring sightlessly at some fixed point in the room. then he lifts his eyes, an arrogant flash of gold. ] I would rather die.
[ to spend his days in the southern colonies or — anywhere else sounds like a death sentence anyway. he sighs, a bout of exhaustion hitting him as he slowly rubs his eyes. zoya had accused him of being absurdly dramatic. he resumes pacing, if a bit slower this time, tilting his head toward kaz’s gloves. ]
Have you been taking them off sometimes? [ not have you touched anyone else. he meets his gaze, something expectant there, as if to say that just because his own life has spiraled to disaster doesn’t mean that kaz is off the hook for what they’ve started. ] For simple things. A shot at the bar of the Crow Club.
no subject
nikolai is different. good. and guiltier for it. he thinks of how inej resisted killing for so long in service of saints who failed to protect her. and how difficult it was to keep her grounded the first time she took a life. the standards of gods and kings are outwith human reach.
for want of a distraction from nikolai’s frenetic energy, he leans over the desk, gloved fingers skating over his hat before deciding against returning it to his head. nikolai prefers you without armour. with steady hands, he retrieves the kaleidoscope and slides its velvet cover back into place. only sets it (safely) aside to start straightening the mess of papers and schematics, sorting them into piles that quickly substantiate nikolai’s sentimental affliction. letters, plural, all unfinished and half nonsensical.
when nikolai says his name, he looks over his shoulder to meet his gaze, holding it with a razored focus until his case has been made. death or exile, one evidently worse than the other. his tidying has created enough space for him to perch on the edge of the desk, so he tugs off his coat, hangs it on the chair, and leans back, bad leg crossed over his good at the ankle, a letter fragment in his lap. unable to concentrate on anything but his own name in nikolai’s hand curling under his finger. ]
[ absentmindedly, ] Here and there. [ in the matter of his gloves, a response that doesn’t welcome further inquiries. he took them off before he ever touched nikolai, after all. alone in his office, with inej in the harbour, at wylan and jesper’s home. he doubts the answer will satisfy, but it’s best not to engage when he doesn’t know what nikolai wants from him. presently, everyone in ketterdam fears what shadowy limbs might hide beneath his merchers’ blacks. let them think him more monster than man for as long as he lives.
something in the letter makes his breath catch in his throat. he pushes through it. ]
Never been overly fond of the law, [ a career criminal: liar, thief, blackmailer, con artist, kidnapper, murderer. ] or those who gave themselves the authority to write and enforce it. [ like the lantsovs. his eyes flicker to nikolai, and his mouth softens. ] But I take your point. [ that if a law exists, it should be fairly enforced. there’s some justice to the idea, just not the kind he favours. a heavy sigh. ] What you’re proposing — I want to understand it. You. [ a beat, he looks at the letter and back up again, tongue running over his teeth. ] I always do, Nikolai.
[ a sweeping gesture of his hand to the centre of the room, as if ceding the floor. the key of his voice changes, shifting from entreating to professional. ]
What charges are being brought against you? And by whom? Yourself or the families of the deceased as well? Those killed in Ravka alone — or in Fjerda, too?
no subject
Here and there, [ he murmurs back, ceasing his restless pacing once more. a careless answer to a question he hoped kaz would put more thought into. maybe it's enough for him, the things they shared, the private seas he crossed. but nikolai wants more for him. should he still push? he doesn't know what his future might hold, only what he thinks it should hold. doesn't know if he'll be around to hold him together if he pushes too hard. ] Don't tell me after everything you've just shuttered yourself back up. Seems we both didn't listen to the other.
[ his eyes travel down the neat line of his buttons, up to the impeccable fold of his collar. a polished look is a trait he's always respected, an immaculate part of his own persona — not that anyone could tell right now, in his (pressed, at least) trousers and bare feet — but it feels like too much after everything they've shared. but maybe he's just forgotten their gentle pace after all their time apart, too. ]
I'm only proposing justice. Zoya won't hear it. [ he turns to the heavy cabinet by his desk, retrieving a half-empty bottle of his favored brandy and two glasses, pouring generously. how long did genya say to wait after her tonic before having a drink? he can't remember. it's likely been long enough. he hands the glass to kaz, and this time allows their fingers to linger a moment, the leather warmed from his skin, before he tips back his drink. ] I'm sure they brought you to the palace by the back roads. There are people rioting in the streets for my head. Ravkans are terribly superstitious and I certainly gave them a frightening show. Nina kept things in Fjerda quiet somehow, but I wouldn't be surprised if that got out any day, too.
[ days ago, he could hear them at the palace gates. zoya put a swift end to that despite his objections that the people had a right to protest. i have a right to my sleep, she'd snarled back, refusing to discuss the matter further. he swirls the liquid in his glass, a humorless tug at his lips. ]
There are also those lamenting my plight. Some people still love me, it seems, misguided though they are. I never really had a right to it, anyway. Never had a right to any of it. Maybe I shouldn't be making such a fuss over the possibility of exile. Did you know — [ he drums his fingertips along the desk, then pushes away, pacing again. ] Did you know I don't have an ounce of Ravkan blood in me? I'm the biggest pretender of them all. I don't even have the right to love this place as much as I do, and yet here I am, acting as if it will kill me to leave it.
[ but it will. it will kill a part of him, at least, a part of him that's lived for his country for so long that he doesn't know what he would do without it. he goes to the window, gazing at the palace grounds through the bars, dappled with the late afternoon light. regret weighs heavy on his shoulders. ]
The heart worked, I think. [ at least one bit of good news he can present to kaz. ] The demon is still — peckish, in a word, but not like before. We're reaching an understanding again. The switch was what set it off last time, but nothing so bad since then. It was just a terrible amount of damage done at once. [ he grasps the bottle to refill his glass. ] Are you tired from your trip? You could rest. I'm sure they've set you up in a suite. Or — [ he returns to the desk, a short breath escaping his lips as he searches his gaze. ] Here. If you don't mind the mess. We have time, don't we? I mean — [ another pause, a quick catch of teeth at his bottom lip. ] You're staying a bit, right? In Os Alta?
no subject
I take them off in private, with the few I trust. And of course, Queen Ehri, who has already written songs of our torrid love affair to play on the khatuur. [ his scowl gives away that he was, in fact, more offended by that comment than he let on earlier. still, he accepts the drink, gaze drawn up to nikolai, suddenly close to him, radiating warmth where he’d been frightfully cold the last time. if kaz snagged his wrist, he could keep him here, at least for a time. could kiss him, too, just to see if he tastes the same.
when nikolai tips back his drink, kaz does the same. his gaze lingers on the apple of his throat and the curve of his jaw. hard not to think of nikolai crowding him against the counter in fjerda. ill-advised all the same. flashing hot, he sets the drink on a freshly cleared patch of desk and unbuttons one cuff at the wrist, folding the crisp fabric up to his elbow. ]
I suspected. [ in the matter of his blood, with accusations of bastardry. ] I wasn’t born in Ketterdam, either. [ his kingdom by conquering, not birthright. no others know that he didn't emerge from the harbour swathed in black. ] No one has a right to anything. Saints and kings just think they do. [ offence intended. he starts on his other sleeve, symmetry in his exposed forearms, apart from the dregs’ crow and cup tattoo decorating the interior of his right. ]
[ upon hearing the heart did its job, a flicker of relief passes over his features — the switch was what set it off last time — a swift contortion. you should have been here with him. to what? stop the demon? have his throat opened by those teeth that only grazed him the first time — heat bolts down his spine. at once shamed and wanting, nothing makes him as foolish as this man. he should have set nazyalensky’s letter on fire.
nikolai wanders close again, and kaz leans toward him without meaning to, heart thudding in his chest. the words are an unmistakable invitation. ]
[ softer, ] I could be persuaded to stay. [ a beat. he folds the letter into a neat square and tucks it into the pocket of his vest. ] But you've yet to convince me of your dire sentencing. One step at a time, Lantsov. [ however much kaz aches to forget this morbid talk and just be near him. he wants to run his fingers over each new scar — to see if his shaking pieces might reassemble in his arms. his weathered resolve keeps him from enacting such fantasies. giving into that softness won’t help him here, when nikolai has denied pleas for his life and company before. ]
Back on the stand now. [ he waves his hand out, shooing nikolai farther from him. too distracting to have him near. his questions chase the order, cutting and quick. ] Before you hang, have you requested the extradition of the khergud members responsible for killing your people? Presumably alongside the former drüskelle Grisha-hunters that Zenik hopes have a fraction of Matthias Helvar’s goodness in them. [ both hands splayed. ] Do you intend to have me indicted as your accomplice for forcing you into Fjerda against your will — call it coercion or kidnapping — and for negligence in regards to two of your escapes, one of which directly resulted in the very casualties we’re discussing?
[ the law has never been fixed, bending this way and that in the names of status, rank, connection, and mercy. nina and inej share a belief in forgiveness and change. it’s what makes them better than him.
kaz believes that nikolai is more like them than him, in this regard, and that he shows mercy to all but himself. ]
no subject
A torrid love affair might do you well, Brekker. [ their gaze holds, lingering, nikolai's mouth curving into a sweet smile. he wouldn't be surprised if he found a knife wedged somewhere in his throat. glass in hand, he grazes the edge of his knuckles down kaz's knee, feels a simmer of warmth down his spine. imagines pressing his hand between his legs and coaxing him to life through his trousers. would he push him away? maybe if he keeps talking. he tries to temper the flash of jealousy in his eyes, his heart at odds with his mouth. but kaz should be pushed, even if it's away. ] I'd be curious to see if you can withstand something different.
[ regret sours his tongue once his back is turned, sipping morosely at his drink. if kaz wasn't born in ketterdam, then where? his mind hits a snag, wanting desperately to ask, but knowing he won't be graced with an answer. not yet. perhaps he can earn one. the sunlight bothers him suddenly, his mood darkening. the palace feels stifling, a sprawling, luxury prison. he wanders the grounds less and less as the weeks wear on, barred from leaving the gates, his quarters having become his entire world as of late. tolya will join him for chess or tea, tamar will drag him out to spar, but all he does with zoya lately is argue. he is mostly left alone to his morbid thoughts, except now there's kaz, asking for a reason to stay. nikolai has dozens to give him. so i can hold you. so i can kiss you. because i feel so alone. so i can spend my last days with you. because i still have to take you for a swim and show you that you don't have to be afraid.
but he says none of these things, squaring his shoulders, letting the timid softness bleed away. ] I want you to stay. But not if you're taking that damned job Zoya's attempting to pin onto you. And yes, I know she likely threatened to crush your lungs like hollow gourds if you spoke of it, but I already know she wants my captors dead. Why she asked you, of all people — [ another pause, another snag. why did she ask brekker? he looks at him again, this time uncertain. in private conversation with zoya he'd confessed to nearly everything upon his return to ravka, including a vague sort of closeness with brekker, although she'd sussed most of that out herself. his eyes drop to his tattoo, his bared skin, wondering if he touched him if he would find him warm. he shakes the thought away. can it be because of this? because zoya is tired of arguing his point and so she thought kaz might change his mind?
he circles further back at kaz's behest, suddenly presented with a wall of sound logic that he immediately doesn't want to hear. he finishes his glass again and splashes more brandy into it, then pinches the bridge of his nose until the room is quiet once more. ]
Finished? [ there's an edge to his tone. a thought dislodges from the back of his mind, one that dampens his spirits considerably. he won't want to stay. this might be the last time he sees him — the real last time. he steals a glance, trying to commit to memory this new picture of him in his chambers, perched on his desk. something he never thought he'd see. ] Casting blame on others changes nothing, Brekker. We've dealt with the victims of the khergud program. They've suffered punishment enough to last lifetimes. Let Nina show mercy to her drüskelle as she sees fit. And you — you weren't my kidnapper or my keeper. Don't be daft. I killed my own people. People I took an oath to serve and protect. I... you can't understand. I remember everything I did. I can never — [ he inhales tightly, looking away. ] Is it so preposterous that those who want justice should be allowed to have it? Maybe my captors didn't go about it in the right or lawful way, but I understand why they did it. Precisely because of this. Because the law has always bowed to rank and status. They knew the crown would protect me and that I wouldn't suffer a scratch for what I'd done.
[ a ragged breath fills his lungs, his glass shaking before he steadies his hand, eyes closing briefly against the screams in his head, the hot rush of blood in his mouth. he takes another drink, throat bobbing. then, strained, ] And not a single one of you will hear what I'm saying.
no subject
withstand it, nikolai says, like touch is something to be endured, not wanted. hadn’t he tried to explain it wasn’t like that? it hadn’t been the exposure that worked, though the cumulative effect helped — it’d been the wanting. touch made into something trusted and desired, worth every journey to the underworld to have nikolai with him even for a second. that’s why it won’t be the same for anyone else. that’s why he never managed to overcome it before. ]
I’m no butcher. [ rasped with obvious disdain, in reference to the job zoya may or may not have offered him. harsher, then, because he can’t entirely restrain himself — ] It’s very princely of you to think that hearing your words would lead to others agreeing with them. [ a short exhale. pure exasperation. ]
I can’t understand your position, no, not entirely. [ what it’s like to be noble, driven by duty, and have enacted violence out of his control. every horrible thing kaz brekker has done was a choice. often one made alone, only jordie’s voice in his head for company. kaz stands, though he doesn't dare move nearer, not yet. ] But I very much understand what it’s like to lose someone. [ identification not with nikolai but those who sought to harm him. tension lifts his shoulders. ] The people who want justice will never be satisfied, not with your exile or your death.
[ he wasn't. because he wanted it to mean something — because revenge can’t bring his brother back from the dead. nikolai knows him well enough to surmise that his idea of justice will be similar to those who aimed to torture and kill their former king. kaz glances down at his still-gloved hands. strange to have been in this room, with this person for aching minutes and not touch him.
jordie’s loss is a wound that stings even now. made raw again and again, torn open by the possibility of losing nikolai, invoking matthias, and being tasked with another job that could endanger his crew if he chooses to take it. steeling himself, kaz swivels his focus back to nikolai and steps towards him. ]
I know you. [ a confidence that can’t be blunted in those words, paired with a sharp tilt of his chin. regardless of where kaz fits into his life, he has seen nikolai at his lowest, revealing the truth of his nature. ] You’re punishing yourself. [ self-destructive tendencies on impressive display, pushing away all who might help him. there’s no other explanation for suggesting he take a lover after being rather obviously — jealous. (it feels dangerous to acknowledge that, even in his mind, with how it implies that nikolai wants him in some singular way, but there’s no other word for it.) seconds after asking him to stay in his chambers, his bed, and directing him to those damned letters. love letters, except that’s not what they are. no idea how else to categorise them, when they seem centred on longing for him or telling him sweet, ordinary things. he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and dislodging a few strands of dark hair in the process. ]
Have you considered that you’re a victim, like those in the khergud programme? [ transformed by the darkling into a ruinous animal. he thinks of inej asking him, was there no one to protect you? and how he’d snarled in response. to acknowledge being a victim at all is to admit a kind of helplessness, at odds with the pride and sense of responsibility that nikolai and kaz share. a beat. shining a light, however faint, on the deep, unacknowledged parts of someone is bound to burn. he resolves to stay the night in the rooms zoya set aside for him, even if nikolai sends him away. he can afford to lose a few days to this storm. ] If you want to be left alone with your demons, you’ll have to ask me to go outright.
[ it's different from the last time he said as much, but the sentiment remains the same. there wasn’t anyone to protect him. someone ought to look out for nikolai. and if nazyalensky also seems to think he’s the one to do it — he has to try with all his stubbornness and cleverness. ]
no subject
[ he wants to backtrack and touch kaz the right way, the way he's thought about for all the time they've been apart, but he puts space between them instead, playing back the way kaz's muscles had stiffened against his knuckles over and over again in his head. when was the last time he had that reaction? maybe the very first time when he was stitching him up, when kaz was confessing to his aversions. it feels like a lifetime ago, a sea of warmer touches between it, kaz curling into his hand, eager for more. should he open that door again? he can't. it will only hurt more when he has to shut it for good. ]
They might be satisfied if I give them a very grand death. A spectacle. I think I'd be quite good at that. [ guilt pulls at him as he says it, turning away at kaz's words. i very much understand what it’s like to lose someone. would he put him through it again? he tilts his glass back, swallowing the remains before dropping into a broad armchair, rubbing a hand over his eyes. his head is starting to ache either from mixing brandy with genya's draughts, or from this conversation. you're punishing yourself. he scoffs. ] Should I be doing something else after committing crimes unspeakable against my country?
[ he freezes, then, his gaze veering sharply toward kaz, standing steps away from his desk now. his words burrow into some hurt place inside of him and grow roots as quick as zoya's lightning, too quick for him to dig them out. a victim. he stifles the urge to throw his empty glass at kaz's head, barking out an abrupt laugh to hide the flash of pain that streaks through him. is that how kaz sees him? as a botched experiment like the unfortunate grisha turned khergud? is that what he is? he rakes his fingers through his hair, slumping down as he traces the stitches lining his face, his glass dangling from one hand before he lets it drop to the floor with a thud, rolling several paces away. a heavy sigh sinks his chest. ]
Go, then. I didn't ask for you. [ his eyes slip shut, a barrage of memories fighting to break free. open skies around him, blood spilling down his throat, the give of flesh beneath his claws, kaz's warm lips against his mouth. his brow tightens. ] Only in my dreams. The ones that aren't nightmares. In the ones where I'm still — [ another snag. his mind swims, the room tilting when his lashes flutter open. tries to sit up, but his body feels heavy. no. he doesn't want to waste this time he has because he doesn't know how long kaz will stay. not long, with the way he's speaking to him. ] In the ones where I'm still a prince, and only a moderate amount of people want me dead, and you and I still — [ have each other. if they ever did. ] Spent time in the sun.
[ he searches for kaz's gaze with some difficulty, but his stare is piercing once it finds its mark. he turns his palm up. ] Come here?
no subject
[ immediately, ] Both you and Nazyalesnky should take this to your generals. [ not the bastard of the barrel, but he suspects zoya planned to do so already, after cleverly or foolishly sending him to disarm nikolai. he doubts general safin or the others will be swayed by the emotionality of the appeals on either side of the once king and current queen’s debates. more likely they’ll settle for something even-handed. ] Punishing yourself only serves your guilt, not the needs of the people. If Nazyalensky heeds your counsel, she’ll harm herself and Ravka by pardoning those who attacked you and, in turn, the crown. [ a broad gesture toward nikolai and then back to himself. ] And if I hunt down your people, she’ll rule like a gangster, not a queen — which I admire, but that’s a matter of personal taste.
[ a wry tip of his head, neutrality forced in the face of nikolai’s insistence. his stomach has already twisted into knots and tangles over the course of this conversation. kaz expects to be thrown out by force — as nikolai pushed him the night in novyi zem — or with a curt dismissal. the latter comes and catches him in the vulnerable place between his ribs. hurt flashes across his features (fitting in his widened eyes and the tight downturn of his mouth) before he can hide it. i didn’t ask for you. no, he didn’t. in fact, nikolai sent him away in the first place, a horrified look on his face at the mere thought of kaz brekker coming to ravka. kaz knew that, and he came, anyway, without thought or reason.
you knew this would push him. the same way his refusal to hand over the jurda parem to jesper sparked a fight between them. his delivery of truths like this has always been at the wrong angle, a jagged blade wielded awkwardly. he'll argue with nikolai until the other sees the value of his own life, but a creature enshadowed can only take so much sunlight in one day. tomorrow, he can try again. kaz takes another step, this time toward the door, before nikolai’s words still him. in dreams, in letters; that’s where nikolai kept him. places full of fantasies he knows can’t be made reality, with his crown lost forever. it’s not so different from the dreams and imagined conversations kaz held without him, or the unsayable things trapped in his throat even now, like i missed you from the moment i woke up without you, i haven’t wanted to touch anyone but you, i waited so long for an excuse to write you that it seemed like i didn’t think of you but i did, i do. ]
If you had asked for me, I would have come. [ firmer, ] I would have come for you. [ as he crosses to nikolai, he tugs the glove from his left hand and slips it into his trouser pocket. that’s how kaz finally reaches for him, bare skin sliding against his outstretched fingers, cupping the back of his hand and curling his thumb into the centre of nikolai’s palm, breath caught in his throat. a gesture of affection, brushing up against the old boundaries erected between them. in an effort to keep his voice even and expression controlled, kaz speaks slowly. ] To my knowledge, I’m not secretly a prince — and I’ve no interest in becoming one. [ by pursuing queen ehri or anyone else. there might be an apology for suggesting otherwise in the slight purse of his mouth. ] But I could help with some of your other dreams. [ brows lifting. ] Or nightmares. [ the romantic dreams hinted at just now, certainly, but also the kind that have allowed nikolai to consider the nuance of his person. neither entirely stalwart and true, nor a wholly condemnable monster. his thumb brushes along the lines of nikolai’s palm. ] If you ask.
[ if that’s what you want. ]
no subject
We'll take the matter to our generals. I'll not have our people turn on our first Grisha queen as well. Not Zoya. [ it's the last thing they need after he's made such a mess of things already. he doesn't think about what an execution of a former lantsov king — one like him, different from the rest — would do to her rule. not yet. not when he's still unwilling to let that particular thought go. the old, petulant thought comes back around again. why should he have to give up everything? when he opens his eyes again, kaz is closer to the door than before, and the sight fills his chest with a sudden ache. ridiculous. he'll be in a suite mere halls away. somehow that thought is even worse than when oceans separate them.
then kaz turns, and he speaks, and nikolai's breath catches somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. is he drunk? he's not. he's just having some sort of reaction from mixing tonics and brandy. he's made stupid from having kaz brekker in his bedchambers. his guilt is killing him, his grief over people he'll never know but should have protected. he's so angry at himself, and he doesn't know how to put any of this into words that doesn't make him sound like a daft bastard. like a victim. ]
You came anyway. [ it wasn't because he didn't want to ask. he couldn't. ] I wanted to spare you from all of this. [ from me. at his best, his excellence is unmatched. but here, at his worst — he wouldn't wish this on anyone. he very nearly draws his hand away despite having asked kaz to come closer, watching his pale, nimble fingers slip from dark leather and curl his hand into his. the tenderness of the gesture makes nikolai wants to tear his skin off, to break down into tears. kaz sees so much, nearly everything, so why can't he see that he can't take this? nikolai seizes his wrist, a different sort of guilt seeping into his cracks at how roughly he handles him, how sudden his touch is, how little time he gives him to process. his palm burns from where kaz's thumb traced over the lines there, an affection he doesn't deserve. ] It's not so simple as just asking.
[ a moment of hesitation, and then he tugs kaz forward, gripping the back of his thigh as he pulls him into the chair, maneuvering him to straddle his hips. with kaz in such close proximity now it feels like a physical ache every moment that passes when he doesn't kiss him. he refrains, sitting back, letting him settle — if he can — his thumb tracing from the inside of his wrist up to the cuffed sleeve at his elbow, passing over the dregs tattoo at his arm. ]
Has no one touched you in all this time? Have you not sought it out? [ his voice is hushed, no pity or judgment in his tone this time. he can't. and yet his hand moves unbidden, fingers at kaz's throat to dig beneath the fabric of his tie, pulling it loose. he flicks open the buttons of his collar, fingertips dipping inside to briefly trace the lines of his collarbones. all places achingly familiar to him. his hand grips his shirt, drawing kaz nearer, his eyes fixed on his mouth. in a moment he pushes him back, steadies himself, his hand gliding up kaz's jaw to caress his cheek, sliding into his hair. ] Have you forgotten what it is to want?
no subject
I’d rather not be spared. [ from this or any other ugliness. no one can protect anyone else in this world, not really, but his thoughts stumble over those who’ve tried to shield him, anyway. jordie, inej, nikolai — distracted as he is, kaz only catches the edge of nikolai’s discomfort before his grip shifts, a sudden shock of skin-to-skin. his head tips to the side on instinct, uncertainty in the angle. the last time nikolai caught him wholly off guard, he nearly had his throat torn open — but there’s no hint of the demon in his eyes now. every nerve lights up under nikolai’s touch, skin cool in the air, then hot against the contagion of fevered skin. dead hands — scorched fingers bypass flesh to catch on bone, nikolai’s thumb chasing the pulse in his arm like he can control it. maybe he can.
the room is too bright. this is too close, too fast. it’s also not close or fast enough. it’s unwise. nikolai has been drinking, spiralling, turning from friendly to punishing in the span of a coin flip. yet touches kaz has gone without for years, then only months, dangle within his grasp. all he has to do is take it.
heart like a clenched fist, kaz allows his weight to settle, heavy and warm in nikolai’s lap. they’ve been more exposed than this but not in some time, old anxieties skittering to the surface, a deep-set alarm ringing at the back of his skull. he can feel the tide rolling in, like it always does. his spine pulls taut and then slackens with effort, lips pressed together in concentration.
skin and leather sweep down nikolai’s chest, a slow and careful drag. in a sense, he has forgotten the hunger that comes from closeness, engrossed now in the sweep of nikolai’s golden lashes, the new scars on his face, and the familiar lines of his chest.
kaz presses his bare palm to nikolai’s sternum, pushing him down, and catches his wrist in a still-gloved hand, fingers tight against his pulse, though he doesn’t drag him away. if anyone else had touched him so brazenly, he’d have snapped their wrist. nikolai isn’t just anyone. kaz loosens his grip on nikolai’s wrist, braceletting up his arm and then letting go. his eyes close as fingers rake through his tidy hair. ]
Nothing I wanted was within my reach. [ quiet but sure. a roundabout about way of saying yes and no. he hasn’t sought out anyone — has actively turned down the few brave enough to lay a curious hand on his arm, in fact. his eyes flash like sunlit ice. ] But I didn’t forget. [ want. you. those things are synonymous. his hand hovers for a moment, then, before it flutters up nikolai’s throat and settles under the fine angle of his jaw, thumbing over the bone.
from there, it’s too easy to kiss him, so kaz does, guided both by the memory of it and a renewed hunger for this, him. not gentle like his touch had been, need shaking his composure. seawater fills his boots. ] I brought something for you. [ slipped in between one breathless kiss and another. a gift, he doesn’t say, though that’s what it is. tangible proof that he couldn’t stop thinking of nikolai or seeking him out, even though he didn’t — couldn’t write. ]
no subject
Because you're stubborn. [ he doesn't want brekker to want anyone else. and yet he can't have him want only him. he closes his eyes when kaz's hand presses to his throat, knowing he's going to kiss him, knowing he shouldn't let him. for both of their sakes, this door should stay closed, and yet he's too weak to slam it shut when kaz pries it open, wants it too badly to do anything but meet his mouth, a current of need streaking through him. ] I don't want it. [ it feels good, and that knowledge feels terrible, his fingers digging bruises into kaz's hip as an aching sigh sinks his chest. ] I can't.
[ it's all wrong. he should be overjoyed to have this — kaz in his arms, kaz in his bedchambers, kaz kissing him first and braving the waters after months of untouched solitude, but the pieces are all misplaced, scattered and breakable in his hands. it's a thing he shouldn't be allowed to handle, not anymore, not with hands stained with blood that may as well be as permanent as the scars marking his skin. kaz tastes like sweet brandy, the familiar scent of the sea still clinging to him from his voyage, sending a pang of longing rattling through his bones. to be back on his ship with him, before all of this, hidden away in their private corner of the vast ocean — he would give anything to go back to it right now, even just for a day, a night, an hour. anything to be away from here. maybe he should leave and simply find some way to contend with losing his first and truest love, a thing that will never love him back. no. that would be dying anyway. better it be a noose or a firing squad.
his mouth slides away as he slumps back, fingers catching onto the buttons of kaz's shirt, eyes closing briefly. when his lashes flutter open again, his hazel eyes are pits of black, but he doesn't move, doesn't blink, memories surging violently through his mind as fractured lines of wispy darkness spread from the corners of his eyes to flicker down his cheeks like a mockery of tears. the taste of blood floods his mouth, faces flashing before him, a new horror unearthed. they're endless inside of him, hidden away in places he can't reach, can't remember, not until the demon digs them out and shows him what he's done. each is worse than the last, new faces, new screams, new crimes that no forgiveness exists for. his breath spools out of him as the darkness recedes, his eyes lightening, his skin unmarred, white-knuckling his composure lest he fall apart in the haze of the evening sunlight with kaz right here in his lap.
he can feel kaz's eyes on him but can't meet his gaze, a tremor gripping his throat. can't speak. the guilt is as heavy as the irons he wears at night. he swallows once, lifts his gaze, manages to make it as far as kaz's lips. good enough. a rough hand reaches for kaz's jaw, drawing him into a hard kiss, his tongue pushing into his mouth while his fingers grip his hair. this is how he can forget, if only for a moment. his free hand snakes between them, his palm pressing into the fork of kaz's thighs, teeth nipping sharply at his bottom lip. ]
This is what you wanted? [ a breathless murmur as he drags his mouth down the sharp cut of his jaw, suckling at his throat. ] This is what you came here for, isn't it? [ not to see him cowed and broken, a far cry from the man who could lead him out of the waters. the man he is now is better off dead even if everyone else refuses to see it. he can still pretend that there is some value left in him, still be something that kaz might look upon without pity. what is he if not the greatest pretender of all? his fingers undo the top two buttons of kaz's shirt, tongue immediately tracing his collarbone. ] Tell me. Why did you come? Because you can't let anyone else do this?
no subject
still, kaz holds back as nikolai drops away. his own eyes widen and then narrow when they meet the black of the demon — nikolai — of whatever they are when working in tandem. can’t hide the fascination in the way his gaze tracks the dark veins spiderwebbing over pale skin. all signs of danger, instability, slippage and yet he can’t tear himself away. a little thrill chases his nerves out, dulled only by the concern bubbling low in his gut. not for the first time, he wonders where nikolai and the nichevo'ya interlock and split. no doubt there’s too much alignment for nikolai’s liking.
nothing to do but wait for the moment to pass or transmute into something violent. kaz spares a thought for the flashbang in his trousers and the oyster knife up his sleeve. the latter would be more useful at close range, reluctant as he is to use it. before he has to make that call, nikolai grapples his way back, the green of fresh fields back in his eyes. kaz loses himself in it for precious seconds.
during that time, clever hands make quick work of his buttons, then singe his skin. a choked sound fractures any attempt at nonchalance, tongue soothing over his bottom lip where nikolai reddened it. the muscles in his thighs tense as he grinds into the pressure of nikolai’s palm, savouring the friction that comes with the roll of his hips. he wants more. he always does — even when nikolai’s tongue trails conflicting sensations over his skin. flesh wet and rotting. no, a slick warmth that can only come from closeness. he shudders without knowing which feeling prompted it.
at least if nikolai is pushing him, he’s an active party in this. ]
You’d like it to be that simple. [ but you shouldn’t ask kaz brekker questions with difficult answers, if you aren’t prepared to hear them. fortunately or unfortunately, kaz brekker thinks of himself and nikolai as more complex actors than all that. a question of wanting, not letting, is at the core of this. the distinction flares in his mind again. ]
I came because you’d never ask. [ a variation on something nikolai said to him once. his gloved hand winds into nikolai’s hair and yanks his head back abruptly. cool air bites where his collarbone is left bereft of nikolai's mouth. ] Because you’re stubborn. And you won’t let anyone else — [ this close. inside his ever-whirring mind. irritation cuts across his features, more at himself than nikolai, for falling for nazyalensky’s little trick. why else would she write him and rush him into nikolai’s chambers? keep focused.
they’re circling each other, he decides, seeing how far they can pull the tether between them until it snaps. (how the hell does it never seem to snap.) with a tug, kaz harshens the angle of nikolai’s neck and leans over him to test the give, anyway. ] I choose to let you do this because it’s what I want. And thieves — even more than princes — get what they want. [ another demanding kiss attempts to prove his point, though his bare fingers only hook into nikolai’s waistband, skimming around his hip to catch on the clasp of his trousers. with months between their last touches, he can't just leap into deep waters, all too aware of what awaits him beneath the waves. ]
no subject
his temper flares, anger and desire rushing into one pulsing line. it's a rare thing for his fury to slip its leash, always carefully controlled beneath glib remarks and unaffected confidence, but his unwavering restraint has worn thin over the last several months, and of course kaz brekker is coarse enough of a stone to fray his threads completely. even zoya hadn't managed such a feat. he strains against kaz's hold, pushing into the kiss, eyes fluttering shut but not before they flood black, then hazel once more. the sharp point of his teeth catch onto kaz's bottom lip, drawing blood, staining his own mouth red. ]
You don't know what you want. [ make him go. kaz's fingers dip shallowly into his trousers, a prelude to something more, something nikolai has thought about a hundred times in this very room, in the bed mere feet from where they sit. but kaz does know. it's in his kisses and his touches and the cautious way he intends to undress him. nikolai shakes the thought away, ignores the ache between his legs. ] Do you think that you really know me, Brekker? That a few weeks on my ship and a good fuck somehow mean that you know what's best for me now?
[ his throat feels raw. he wants to lay his head in kaz's lap again, wants to feel his hand in his hair while the sea rocks gently beneath them. he wants him to lie and say that it will all be all right. instead of asking for comfort he reaches blindly for kaz's shirt, prying his fingers between the neat closure of his vest and forcing it open, sending the rest of his buttons scattering to the floor. he grips his tie and yanks him down, breath hot against the shell of his ear. ]
You've only just discovered what wanting really is. Don't force your way in here and act as if you can hold my hand through anything. [ something squeezes tight around his heart, cold and painful. a crinkle rustles in kaz's vest when it gets caught between their bodies. one of his letters tucked away in his pocket, a flood of nighttime memories, trying valiantly to compose his thoughts, to sort out his longing. his breath grows short, nothing to do with desire. make him go. he can taste kaz's blood in his mouth. ] I'm done holding yours.
no subject
the coppery taste of blood fills kaz’s mouth, more familiar than not, and air hisses between his teeth. this isn’t the gentle, careful nikolai from the first or last time. you need to be careful warns the voice at the same moment nikolai proves it. his hand stills. if there’s one thing that isn’t true, it’s the first of nikolai’s slashes. kaz brekker has always known what he wanted, even when that wanting diverged from his original purpose as a vengeful spirit.
in this moment, he knows what he wants better than nikolai, who has been contradictory for some time. this is just that tendency honed to a fine blade, slotted between kaz’s ribs and twisted with intent to harm. kaz can see it for what it is, though that does nothing for the pain. better to pause and review the evidence, swirling before him like the stones in that stupid kaleidoscope: nikolai asking him to leave the job and ravka, then stumbling over an invitation to stay in his room, in his bed. a request that he leave was followed by the very ask that drew him into nikolai’s lap.
logical thoughts scatter as nikolai ruins his new vest — for fuck’s sake — and seizes his tie, constricting his throat. you wrote me letters you said there was nothing better than me waiting you lied and lied and lied.
if kaz’s tongue is poison, nikolai’s is silver. he knows this, having spent weeks searching for pearls of truth in all his blethering. with nikolai wanting and threatening in his ear now, he closes his eyes. fighting the rip current only hastens drowning. kaz withdraws his hand from nikolai’s trousers and instead curls it at his wrist, prepared to break it away from his tie, his throat, if necessary. as he licks the blood from his lips, his breath evens its pace without slowing. ]
I’m not some toy you have to break to rid yourself of it. [ bitten out, hurt hidden the in the relentless grind of his rasp. that’s what all this is, isn’t it? he’s not performing as expected or wanted, so the little prince is tossing him at the nearest wall in frustration. ] I knew you from the moment I met you. [ a prince in privateer’s clothes. ] And I’ve told you what I want. [ you, whole and hale, whether that’s in his arms or someone else’s (though he certainly has a preference). evenly — ] So if you want me to go, you have to ask.
[ the other accusations range from absurd — that he was just a good fuck, when he was probably anything but that, all shaking hands and towering walls — to dangerously accurate. i’m done holding your hand strikes deep in his marrow, memories of intertwined fingers recurring through the whole of their entanglement. kaz had been exposed that first time on the ship, bleeding out and terrified of a healer’s hands. had accepted nikolai’s help, his touch in the times they collided after that. impossible to stop his old shame from resurfacing, weakness inherent in his inability to touch others freely, even now.
of course a thing like him can't walk this path beside nikolai, but he can try to turn him in the right direction (away from him, back toward his generals and nazyalensky). he lets his head fall into nikolai’s shoulder to slacken the fabric at his throat, smelling not sweat and salt — only decay. the chill down his spine is just that. a fear response.
he needs to leave. ]
Ask — [ his breath catches, and he hates himself for it. ] Ask for what you want.
[ because he won’t be cajoled into a retreat. his stubbornness will trigger the sickness or force nikolai to send him away openly, whichever comes first. ]
no subject
this is all wrong, and he's the one making it so. is it finally broken now? his heart rabbits in his chest, unease in every beat, shame tightening his throat. it has to be this way. kaz will understand, with time. but doubt sours that thought behind the truth of what he's known for some time now — kaz brekker's heart is perhaps the most fragile thing he's ever held in his hands. nikolai can take heartbreak, soldier on, coexist with his misery and wear a smile while he does. he'll find a way to get what he wants. but the same question he's asked himself since the start still plagues him now. will kaz ever allow anyone to touch him like this again? will he ever try to overcome this with anyone else or will he live shuttered away and untouched until the end of his days? will that be his fault, too?
his fingers loosen, slackening the pull of his tie. he feels weak, and weakness gives the chance for the demon to take hold. he can feel it now, pressing into the corners of his mind, always ready, always there. he can't afford to be anything but resolute, and yet he's done nothing this entire time but waver — and he's wavering now, feeling that barely perceptible tremor in the muscles of kaz's body, the chill on his skin, the hitch in his breath. everything has changed and yet nothing at all. ask for what you want. ]
Don't. [ his hand ghosts along kaz's spine, his fingers trembling, eyes pressing shut as his voice drops. ] Don't leave me alone with my shadow. You told me — it's grown with every wrong, and I can't see the light anymore.
[ the suli proverb, shared the very first time he ever laid hands on brekker, stitching his insides back together. he hasn't forgotten a word of it. doesn't believe a word of it. and still it holds true. fix this. he'll go off to die and kaz might never make sense of this, might spend his entire life thinking that he can't best this after all, that there will never be another place for his want. the thought is unbearable. why did zoya bring him here? why did he come? he twists, rising, depositing kaz into the plush armchair in a rumpled heap, and for a moment he hovers over him, knee pressed between his legs, hands locked on the armrests as he cages him in, his mouth close enough to kiss. kaz looks like he's going to be sick, like the tide is licking at his feet and he can't move away fast enough.
the demon closes in and nikolai skitters back, eyes glassy and hollow, pitch black. fleeting darkness flickers down his skin. he stumbles to his desk amidst the roars in his head, snatching a sheaf of paper as he begins a furious sketch, a woman with pale hair and down-turned eyes, then another, this one a man with a scraggly beard and wild brows. a child clutching a wooden toy in the likeness of a firebird. someone's grandmother wearing a faded headscarf. he crosses the room and pushes the drawings frantically at kaz, sinking to his knees before the armchair as he hastily scrawls another, his eyes burning fever green again, his breath shuddering with memories abruptly dislodged. ]
I have to find these people. No — their families. I have to. [ the pages slip to the floor as he presses his forehead to kaz's bad leg, his hand curling around his ankle. guilt rises like bile in his throat. he has no right. he should be alone. tell him to go. something chokes his words, the truth of what he wants spilling out before he can snatch it back. ] Stay with me. I — please, just stay with me.
no subject
his skin burns as nikolai handles him. you need to leave. but that would require standing — not to mention reneging on the deal he made with nikolai at the start of that endless job and renewed in this very room. face pale and pupils dilated, kaz tips his head back to regard him with jagged curiosity. which nikolai is the one leaning over him now? one that wants him close, for whatever reason.
nikolai’s eyes blacken in answer. dinner it is, he thinks darkly, slipping the knife from his sleeve. at the point nikolai hits the desk, however, he sheathes it again. kaz pushes himself upright in the chair, though he very nearly regrets it, stomach flipping even without the pressure of nikolai’s bare skin on his. you can’t hold him through this. can’t hold anyone at all, but he can soldier on, as he always has.
his gaze follows nikolai as he slips his tie from his neck and lets it fall to his lap, wrinkled atop two buttons from his vest. the price of his various gambles tonight. not too bad a loss, all things considered, with but a dash of his own blood in his mouth. he cards a hand back through his hair, quick though it is to flop forward when he drops his arm to the side of the chair, open palm smushed into his cheek. again, he wonders who approaches him now — luckily, the wildness in nikolai’s eyes give him away.
years of honing his reflexes prompt him to grab for two of the sketches before they flutter away, squinting at them in the fading light. so these are the ghosts that haunt nikolai. the child and its toy give him pause, pulling disparate threads in his mind. he and jordie left alone in the city. rollins’ little pigeon with his wind-up toy that kaz rammed down his throat. ]
[ in a rough approximation of his usual dry tone — ] That was the plan. [ good to finally have you on board, lantsov. his mouth twists into a scowl. ] Before you bit me. [ like a feral dog. or a puppy, kneeling and bent into him, keenly aware it did wrong. kaz waits for the tell of another swing to cruelty, or for his own nausea to overtake him, rippling out from where nikolai clasps the knot of bone at his ankle. when the waters calm, he sighs and threads his gloved hand through nikolai’s hair. ]
They [ the royal they: zoya, tamar and tonya, genya and the rest of his crew. ] won’t let you out of their sight long enough to find anything. [ let alone people with reason to hasten him along to the end he so desires. ] I could help with that… but I usually make deals with men who intend to live long enough to see them through. [ still a touch green, the look on his face is no less cutting. if nikolai means to die, he’ll get no help from kaz with his unfinished business. ]
no subject
the reminder that he is a prisoner here stings. this is his palace, his home. zoya is being ridiculously dramatic, but still he will grudgingly defer to her command because she is his queen and one of the few people he wholeheartedly trusts. but just because he’s been commanded to stay put doesn’t mean he’s made any promises to do so.
finally, in a beleaguered mutter — ] Stop trying to run game on me, Brekker. I’m no pigeon plucked from a Ravkan alley, and I won’t fall for your cons when you dress them as terms agreeable only to you. [ his eyes stray to the fallen papers. ] But I can’t go yet. Not if I’m going to try to make amends. And I do need your help.
[ he doesn’t realize he’s made up his mind until the words leave his mouth, brow furrowed and his cheek pressed to kaz’s knee, his fingers trailing absently up the line of his calf. a plan. the barest bones of one, at least. something to hold onto. logic and reason have been his only defense against the monster for these long years, and he has to hold onto them now despite the sorrow that threatens to drag him into the dark.
there is atonement that needs to be made in this room, too, for words said — for words unsaid — for the blood in his mouth and the perilous sickness he’s now making worse instead of better. kaz may never get in the water with him now. surely not when he realizes that nikolai intends to leave him untethered, if he hasn’t worked out already that there is no changing his mind. but kaz is as stubborn as he is. he might let him go, but he doubts he’ll let him get what he wants.
cautiously, he looks up, setting his chin at the edge of his knee. he should tell him to go back to his room, that he’s fine now, that he’d rather be alone. flimsy lies that kaz will see through, or maybe he’s been contrary enough that kaz won’t know what to believe anymore. wishful thinking. kaz looks as discerning as ever, even with his eyes a touch too wide, his skin too glassy. nikolai can’t help but feel as though everything between them has just been undone.
maybe not everything. kaz hasn’t kicked him away yet, after all. ]
I know my way around every corner of this palace. Between the two of us, I’m fairly certain we could sneak away for a night or two. We’d just have to dress as — stablehands, or something equally nondescript. No dramatic blacks or fitted vests. [ he pauses, eyeing kaz’s now buttonless vest and rumpled shirt, then brings his gaze to the bright smear of blood at his mouth. he flexes his fingers, trying to quell the desire that rises in him. it can’t lead anywhere good. ]
Stay. I don’t sleep much these days. [ he looks away, blackened fingers gentling over the bone of his ankle, sliding along the fabric of his sock. a new guilt weighs at his shoulders. ] But I won’t… I won’t touch you. You’ll have to find that elsewhere now. I want you to have that again. But it won’t be with me.
no subject
No. [ he lets that hang in the air, fighting for his former composure and hardness. no, he won’t stop running cons. it’s who he is, unable to approach anything from an open angle. selfish, unfair, unpredictable. no, he won’t help nikolai unless the terms of the deal suit him. ] You forget who I am. [ you let him forget. giving into the very weakness that dirtyhands has exploited in his enemies hundreds of times. no more. ]
It doesn’t matter what you want for me, Nikolai, only what you can offer me. [ jaw clinched, he slides his hand from nikolai’s hair and pulls his other glove from his pocket, tugging it onto his hand.
his unkindnesses don’t bely an intent to push nikolai to change his mind. even if nikolai wanted to, kaz couldn’t allow any more taction than this. his eyes darken, committing nikolai’s weary features to memory. are you pleased with yourself, sobachka, for breaking your things. he sets about buttoning his shirt, all the way to the collar, though there’s nothing to be done for the vest. ]
You were a king once. [ if nikolai doesn’t want his mercy, then he’ll be treated like everyone else and subject to his poison tongue. ] Negotiate. With me. [ a pointed look. ] And Zoya. [ purposefully invoking how nikolai addresses her. kaz tried to face nikolai alone on the last job; a mistake he won’t make twice. his series of missteps led them here, after all. ] Tell me why I should help you, when I can leave the palace at any time through the front door — in my own clothes.
[ and go somewhere else. ketterdam, shu-han, fjerda. anywhere i won’t have to help you to your end. to prove his point, he stands, carelessly shaking nikolai and his sketches off in the process. from there, he swiftly crosses back to the desk. the greater the distance from this man, the clearer his mind. already, it rids him of the lingering discomfort from his closeness (and proximity to death). as soon as his coat hangs within reach, he pulls it snug across his shoulders. leave, he tells himself, but his mouth bites out more of its own accord. ]
Your competitors would at least pay me to douse her — the first Grisha queen, the first Suli queen — with the blood of the last Lantsov king. [ rather than asking him to abide it, free of charge. it’s phrased as cruelly he intends it. nikolai’s desire for martyrdom will do irreparable damage to nazyalensky’s reign. her extreme precautions in keeping him here serve both her affection for him and her shrewdness in keeping hold of a crumbling throne. it’s what kaz would do, in her shoes. if he also recognises that inej and jesper would never forgive a betrayal that staggering, he tells himself that isn’t a factor in his refusal to do so. ] And she’ll pay me to stop you, so you’ll need to win us both over. [ he reaches into his pocket, retrieving a box small enough to be held in one hand and throwing it at nikolai’s head. ] Luckily, you don’t sleep much, so you have all night to build your case.
[ and to attempt to crack the puzzle box that protects his present, though the puzzle was meant to be part of the gift itself, since nikolai likes them most of all. kaz chokes down his desire to watch him crack it. most likely, he’ll chuck it in the fucking bin.
for a moment, he hovers by the door, awaiting an answer. even if it’s just a continuation of the fight they’ve been having since novyi zem, this is more than he’s had of nikolai in months, and with every step he comes closer to throwing it away — to breaking his word.
he’ll return when morning comes. surely that’s enough, after all this. ]