[ the uneven footsteps above pull every muscle taut, the first sound of life he's heard in days. and not just any life. his blackened gaze turns upwards, his face cracked with shadows, the heavy thud of the cane abruptly stopping. the rattle of the lock, the creak of the door's hinges. then there's light. nikolai turns away as the lock lands beside him with precise aim, keeping shrouded in the shadows. his hunger, finally tempered beneath his skin, flares back to life.
at least kaz has the sense to stay back. nikolai stopped eating two days ago, and broke his last bottle of brandy in frustration, jagged shards of glass littering the floor. doesn't know how much time has really passed. the monster has finally stopped trying to kill him, and he's been sitting still for hours, maybe a day, maybe longer, thinking of the thorn wood. of zoya in her amber prison, of how the monster was quick to save her again and again. of his strange attachment to kaz, of how he should have found him dead by now but hasn't. there's an answer somewhere to all of this — he just needs more time.
but time, even if kaz hadn't shown up, is running short. he hasn't slept, hasn't eaten. now that he's broken out of his thoughts it's impossible to ignore the pain igniting his body with each movement, the dark stains of blood on his clothes. the bandages around his wrists are soaked, and the irons clapped around them look like they're covered in rust. his head hasn't stopped aching since he woke in kaz's bed.
kaz. he flicks his eyes toward his. hard to tell what color they are in the shadows, but kaz's eyes are as blue as ever, lit by the silvery glow above from the open door. must be night. the thump of kaz's cane reverberating through his ears is replaced by his heartbeat, by the steady rush of blood. he imagines pressing two fingers against his throat and feeling the pulse of life. imagines his mouth there instead, then his teeth. fuck. why did he come? ]
Get out. [ voice rough from disuse. he shifts, his clawed hands bracing against the earthen floor, a groan falling unbidden from his lips as he crawls a step forward, then stops. go back. a low growl starts in his throat, his chains rattling, before it abruptly cuts off. a ragged breath lifts his chest, and his eyes glint, the briefest flash of darkened gold as he swallows down the taste of blood in his mouth. darkness fractures one side of his face, the side he keeps away from the light, hidden from kaz's eyes. ] Come closer. Please. [ he tilts his face, his cheekbone bruised, a shock of his red-gold hair matted with blood. kaz's pulse grows louder. ] Where have you been?
[ the air in the room sticks close, stifling, as in the hours before a storm. get out. kaz holds his ground. immovable, unreachable. he’s been very recently reminded of the dangers of proximity, having spent the better part of the day nikolai left heaving in his bathroom. come closer. please. a new theory: maybe nikolai never wanted him near, and it was the monster encouraging him all along. wouldn’t that make more sense than nikolai lantsov preferring him? the zenik of his memories murmurs like calls to like, but the idea falls apart under scrutiny. naturally, the demon remains a factor influencing nikolai’s actions, part of him as kaz has always said, but it doesn't constitute the whole. ]
[ jaw set from holding back, ] I think not. [ his cane thuds on the ground for a final time, gloved hands folded over the topper. ] I told you I had business elsewhere. Do you believe I should give you more than that, when you haven’t deigned to inform me of your plans and movements in my city — after I let you stay in my bed? [ he tutts. reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieves a bone light and holds it aloft, eerie green glancing off his features and encroaching on nikolai’s shadowy corner. a bruise blossoms under his jaw, with fresh cuts mending on his cheek and neck, just above the pristine knot of his tie.
even in profile, nikolai looks cadaverous. as sickly as jordie was in his last days and as badly beaten as kaz has ever been. his pulse quickens at the sight of him, at the thought of the transformations that have surely wrought this. it makes kaz want to slide his hands along his body and feel the extent of the damage — to seize his heart and dissect it, if only to better understand why. his eyes betray him, searching for answers in every inch of illuminated skin. he has to pinch his expression and walk them back to their target, dragging up the tense line of nikolai’s neck, his darkened cheek, and stopping on a hazel eye. can’t help but think of the blood matting blonde above it. is that from nikolai's wrists, or is he hurt there, too? he should have brought milena, only there’s no guarantee anyone will be able to draw near.
his mouth purses. ]
What’s your game, Lantsov? Speak honestly or I’ll end it. [ might still end it, granted. ]
[ he shrinks away from the light, his features tightening in annoyance. ] You wanted me in your bed. [ hadn't he? nikolai should have known better than to be so hasty. years without touch, nearly a lifetime, and he'd pressed in like it was nothing. and kaz let him. maybe he wanted it — wanted it to be as easy as just wanting — but nikolai should have thought it through beyond his own desperation. he put kaz in danger and then left him in a state, alone. what sort of man does that? you do.
the fresh wounds marring kaz's skin get a bit of notice. nikolai wonders who put them there, whether they're still alive for it. kaz looks otherwise immaculate, a trait he respects. doesn't want to think about how he looks right now. can't be worse than how he feels, but he runs his tongue along his bloodied lip and changes his mind. tragic, really. the thought slips from his mind. hard to focus on anything but the rapid quickening of kaz's pulse, the way he smells of blood and leather and rain, how badly he wants him to come closer. deep in his throat, the growl begins again, sharp fingertips curling into the dirt before he prowls a step closer, then another, slowly circling. his palm grinds against a shard of broken glass, and the growling abruptly ceases. nikolai swings his gaze upwards, distraught. ]
Leave me. [ he turns his palm up, wincing as he dislodges the bloodied glass. ] You're good at that. [ pain flares in his side as if in punishment for his words. kaz doesn't deserve them, not when nikolai has left him just the same. he shuts his eyes, trying to block out the ever present thrum of blood. the monster's hunger cuts into him with a blade's precision. he can't. zoya will never allow him home. sudden anger floods him, that he's here, that he can't best this, that he can't touch kaz when it's all he wants to do. the chains snap taut as he lunges at him, iron biting into his flesh, his eyes shattered black, darkness crawling across his skin. his voice turns cold and mocking, lacking nikolai's warmth. ] You don't want honesty. You can't take it. His honesty would make you run howling for the door. Who put those marks on you, Brekker?
[ you wanted me in your bed. of course he did, does and can’t convey his hurt at nikolai having left it, words inadequate and the very feeling hypocritical. that’s what you did to him. it’s what he does and will continue to do, regardless of the want swallowing him whole.
as nikolai shifts in the light, kaz confronts the extent of the damage. never should have left him alone for this long. shouldn’t have let him leave in the first place, zoya had been quick to remind him. useless, spiralling unrealities, at odds with the one thing he knows to be true: people can’t be kept. he tucks the light into his coat, its glow clearing his path wherever he walks. his stare follows nikolai’s movements (a wolf’s pace) and the centimeters of glass disappearing into his palm (a mechanism of control but whose?). caught between man and monster, no doubt. he thinks of niamh’s clean stab at the card table, straight through muscle and sinew, between the gap in bones. if you know where to cut someone, you can flay them like a jacket.
and nikolai knows, slashing along their freshest wound. it doesn’t disarm him as much as drag him forward, out of his mind’s wreckage and into this dungeon. if he deserves anything, it’s nikolai’s anger. before he can respond, nikolai goes away inside — or the better part of him does, at any rate. when nikolai lunges, kaz's brows heighten their arch in lieu of a flinch. no need. the chains hold. his math on the distance between them proves correct. ]
I’m not much for running these days. [ he tips his cane at nikolai and limps along the invisible line separating them, genuine amusement sparking in his eyes despite his ever-present scowl. as for its question, well, kaz runs a finger over the cut on his forehead, drawn tight by a butterfly stitch to encourage its healing. there’s something tucked inside the phrasing, concerned with the marks, not the injury. ]
[ one shoulder lifts into a shrug. ] Should’ve bit me a smidge higher, if you wanted to ward off competitors. [ a lot of people want to tear him open, you know. his gloved thumb follows the red line at his neck now, skin tender. can feel how his pulse ratchets despite his composure, which means nikolai will no doubt hear it, too. ] And you do want something, don’t you? [ in general — and perhaps from him, specifically. eyes narrowed on nikolai, he presses his nail in until he breaks the skin and red pearls down his throat. ] At least to eat.
[ with kaz mere inches from him, he's never felt further away. untouchable, off limits. nikolai vowed it to himself again and again in this room, that all of his yearning had to come to an abrupt end. where he used to find comfort and excitement in imagining the sweep of his fingers across kaz's little touched skin, now it heralds thoughts of blood and hurt. can no longer trust himself to be any sort of safe refuge for kaz's burgeoning needs. his chest heaves, eyes shuttering. they glimmer hazel when they open again, his gaze sliding past kaz in an attempt to ease the sharp ache inside. as if it wasn't enough to lose his country. now this, too.
the words kaz says are nonsensical for long moments, only half-listening, desperate to go back to the thorn wood, to turn over every stone in search of answers. then something snags in his mind, snapping him to attention, a bolt of unwanted fear streaking through his core. ]
Is it speaking to you? [ should've bit me a smidge higher. kaz's pulse roars with renewed fervor, and nikolai watches his thumb dig into his throat, harder, kaz's gaze unflinching. nikolai's panic builds, his control slipping. when? just now, of course. he could do anything to him and wouldn't remember until it was far too late. might never remember. kaz never seems to grasp the severity of his condition — perhaps he just has too much faith in him, or too much reckless arrogance in himself. why isn't he afraid? it's the last thought he has before blood beads from the wound at his neck, the monster's hunger snatching command. this time his shadowy wings burst forth, shifting pieces of wispy darkness brushing the ceiling, plunging the room into deeper gloom. kaz's bone light offers only the dimmest glow, casting them both in shadows, nikolai's eyes once again the color of pitch, his skin fractured like glass, onyx teeth glinting.
his words turn rough, his bared fangs level with kaz's throat as his wings beat wildly, chains clattering. ] You know why he turns away from you? Why he left your bed? Because you're not enough. The things he desires most, you can never give him. The words he wishes to give to you, you have no room in your heart to take. Why do you think he always leaves you without a word? You'll never be any of the things he truly values. You'll always be that half-dead boy drowning among the corpses, desperate for a little bit of light.
[ a vile crack sounds, the chain binding his right hand rattling before it abruptly sags, then falls to the ground, his wrist sliding free, the bone light revealing his thumb broken at an unnatural angle. he dives for kaz's bad leg, his claws sinking into his thigh as they both hit the ground, the sudden shock of pain jolting nikolai back to himself. blood. the stench of it fills his senses, his hand slick with it as he rolls onto his side. even in the darkness he can see blood soaking kaz's trousers, his heartbeat going still. he pushes up, scrambling toward him, but his remaining chains pull taut, snapping him back. a ragged breath falls from his lips. ]
Let me out. You have to. [ his voice breaks, words unsteady. he has to give in. if the demon takes control once more, kaz won't be quick enough to make it up the stairs on that leg. ] Pick the locks. Just let me out, Brekker, otherwise — I'm afraid I can't stop myself from killing you. [ he thrusts out his bound wrist. ] Let me go and I'll come back for you.
[ the monster speaks, and kaz knows its words to be truer than anything nikolai has spoken himself, even while boring into those large, liquid eyes that give him nothing. he’s a shadowy smudge of a person, and nikolai is — a beacon. they should never have become as close as they did — as they are, but it’s too late to break their tether. two, warring thoughts: if you stay in his light for too long, you’ll lose yourself and if you leave him, you lose him. his features harden, arranged into the mask he wore for years before now with newfound difficulty.
perhaps he overestimated how long he would last down here. everything happens faster than he anticipated, the clang of a chain snapping and the subsequent explosion, shrapnel in his leg — claws, he corrects. he doesn’t scream, the pain too acute for the body to process, adrenaline severing the limb. all he can do is push himself upright, gaze swiveling to his leg. at the sight, the terrible pain finally reaches his face, mouth wrenched open by a broken sound. a full-bodied wince follows his attempt to move. saints, he hopes nikolai hasn’t punctured a vein, or he really ought to have brought milena to this wretched place, for his own sake. can’t tell the difference between the thrum of his pulse and the beat of nikolai’s wings, both thunderous in his ears.
up close, his black teeth look rotted. kaz wonders what it would be like for them to rest on his jugular and take what they want. then you’d be fully dead instead of half, jordie warns. ]
No. [ panic infiltrates his voice. ] You won’t come back. You never — [ you never do. nikolai will do something terrible, and kaz will have to kill him. and then he’ll be gone. his heartbeat slows, eyes drooping with it. can’t be the blood loss, has to be — he snaps. ] Stop bloody lying. [ ignoring the pangs scaling his chest, kaz leans forward, bloodied leather hands bypassing nikolai’s shackle to hold his face. ] Nikolai, look at me. I’m keeping you.
[ which is the last thing he says before dimitri knocks them both out in his desperate bid to keep everyone alive. when nikolai wakes, he’ll find his worst wounds bandaged, snug to his skin beneath the repaired chains, anchored at the wall perpendicular to where they were before. the seamless transition from metal to rock suggests a durast’s hand. his broken thumb has been set and taped to his palm, too, with water and bread placed within his grasp.
decidedly out of reach, sat in one chair with his bad leg propped on another and a little black book in hand, is kaz. a lamp flickers on the floor at his side. from the look of him, a healer was involved, after all. taupe bandages peak out of the holes torn into his trouser leg by nikolai’s claws. specks of blood dot the collar of his white shirt, but it’s otherwise still crisp and cinched by his black vest, tie knotted cleanly at the heart of him.
the chains shift, nikolai stirring. a lock of hair falls in kaz’s face, and he tidies it back without looking up. ]
Evening, darling. [ he raises his arm in an absent-minded sort of wave, sleeve rolled to his elbow but leather gloves still in place. ] You never asked if I came alone. [ so, technically, he didn’t lie. ] But I suppose that’s for the best, since your lodger seemed confident I hadn’t. And it is charming that you both think I’m naive in the matter of, well, you. [ the collective you, man and monster. ]
[ feeling returns to him slowly. the ache in his limbs, heavy and dull instead of acute. the press of stone against his spine. hunger slices through him, and it's the thing that rouses him fully, lashes dusting his cheeks as he struggles to find the strength to look up. half exhaustion. half a mind-numbing dread of what he might find.
but what he does find is kaz as tidy as ever despite bloodstains and bandages. nikolai's vision finally rights. he's not dreaming. kaz is too far to touch, but he's here. alive. you didn't kill him. he looks down at his hand, the memory of his claws gouging into his flesh rushing back, but there are only blackened fingertips now, his scars disappearing beneath fresh bandages. a pulse of protest runs through his broken thumb when he tries without success to move it, his chains clinking softly. eyes back to kaz, who still hasn't looked up. what happened? the boy. dimitri. no question that he knows who he is now. there's a fair amount of humor in the whole thing, but he's afraid if he starts to laugh that it won't come out the way he intends it to.
charming. nikolai swallows, his throat clicking. kaz has provided him nothing stronger than a pitcher of water, a glass already poured. absolutely hateful. he reaches for it anyway and drinks it to the dregs, thinking of all the things he needs to say. there's too much to even know where to begin. ]
Why are you still here? [ always staying when he should go. it's not exactly the right thing to say, but an important point nonetheless. apologies can be scheduled for a later date, if only he lives. ] Leave me. I told you I would handle this on my own.
[ because it's one thing to restrain himself in a dingy cellar and face the monster. quite another to have kaz looming over him like a damned jailer. his pride has already steadily weathered away over the last several days; he doesn't need kaz to look up and effectively decay the rest.
and yet he longs for just that. for kaz to look up, away from whatever captures his attention in that accursed book. to look at him instead, despite his dismal, pitiable state. he forces himself to set the glass down gently instead of giving into the urge to shatter it. he's broken enough things lately. kaz was the first warm thing he touched in days and he nearly broke him, too. did he cry out? can't remember. the moment is hazy, full of blood and hunger, a pulsing heartbeat on his tongue. his jaw ticks at the thought of more time lost to the monster, but then thinks maybe it's better that it is. less of kaz's pain in his dreams, at least. hands on his face, blue eyes panicked and determined at once, kaz's lips moving in a silent plea. he shudders, shame warming his cheeks. ]
Your leg. [ he forces his voice steady, eyes flickering down. how could he have done such a thing? ] It's not going to heal. [ just like his shoulder had, the wound will linger. his termite had extracted the merzost infecting him last time, ever resourceful, ever surprising. nina zenik in fucking fjerda. the mere thought of setting foot on that snowy soil once more sends panic skittering down his spine. no choice. no, there's always a choice. ] I'll sail you to see Nina Zenik myself. Or you can shoot me. My death will be a much quicker solution to your problem. [ a beat. ] It's me. If you're not going to listen to anything I say, at least have the decency to look at me as you sit there and ignore all good sense.
No. [ in response to the command to leave, nikolai sailing him anywhere, and shooting nikolai. a versatile counter, all things considered. his hair falls in his face again, and he cards his hand back through the whole of it, eyes closing as he gives into the sensation. it’s hard to see in the dim light, but exhaustion darkens the soft skin beneath his lashes and deepens the lines on his face. evenly, then — ] It’s never going to heal. I broke it jumping off the roof of a bank, and then I set it the wrong way. [ the perils of haphazard realignment all by one’s lonesome. he knows that isn’t what nikolai means but that he finds these true morsels overly fascinating, picking them up and turning them over in his scarred hands. he also knows that even if it’s more than he’s ever given anyone else, it’s still not enough.
kaz closes his book, pen tucked inside to hold his place, and slowly lifts his head, tilting it to the side as his icy gaze settles on nikolai. you already looked your fill. after dimitri awakened him first, panic flowing from his mouth and hands, shaking his shoulders. a steady touch wiped the blood from his throat to ignite his pulse the way only someone uninitiated would dare touch him — didn’t meant to knock you out, boss. are you alright, boss. boss, is that — a headache and a half, his heartbeat and nausea running competitive currents through him, keeping his corpse shambling along. he imagines nikolai is animated by a similar duality now.
his mouth twitches, wanting to give away more than he’ll allow. ]
I know. [ that it’s nikolai, that he ought to see zenik, that nikolai would rather like to be shot in the head. ] The more I talk with the other you, the better I am at spotting the differences — and the similarities. [ for a moment, kaz looks away to slip his gloved hands under his thigh and swings his leg off the chair, careful to extend it slowly. the familiar ache of his old injury tangles with the searing burn of the new. merzost. something he’s learned more about since stealing from the ravkan palace’s grand library. ] It doesn’t want to kill me. [ a swift amendment. ] Not as a priority. It’d prefer to scare me into abandoning you willingly. Why do you think it attacked me somewhere that makes no difference? [ seeing as he already has a marvellous cane, leaning against his chair. ] I have two theories so far. The first is that it would like to isolate you. Maybe that would allow it to consume you and take control permanently. You went under faster and longer after being alone than you did in my room after being with me. [ it was seamless in both instances, regardless, something they need to unpick. ] The second is — it’s you. [ kaz bores into him, dreading and anticipating a reaction to his quiet observations. ] Part of you. Because you try to protect me the same way — by hurting me enough to create distance between us. And sometimes, I let you. [ a quick dip of his chin, acknowledging it to himself. ] But not anymore. I won’t leave you alone with your demons, Nikolai. [ he said that a long time ago and meant it. means it still, an oath renewed. sealed in blood. ]
I think we should feed it. [ we. a beat. he blinks and then gestures between them, as if that explains how his theories led him to this action. ] Livestock.
[ not people, which he admittedly suggested previously. ]
[ the unexpected reveal of how his limp came to be distracts him from his miserable anger. it's absurd. jumping off the roof of a bank. doesn't need to be said that he was robbing it, and likely was successful, too. a twinge of sympathy accompanies his surprise, that kaz would have set it himself out of necessity. no one else could have touched him then. the harrowing loneliness of such an existence makes the distance between them feel even greater, mere steps and yet it may as well be an ocean. one, this time, that nikolai is determined not to cross.
the more i talk with the other you — it makes nikolai snap to attention, his gaze finally sharpening. that kaz speaks to it at all leaves an ashen taste in his mouth, a kind of unreasonable betrayal, but more than that, it's helplessness that settles like lead in his bones. kaz continues before nikolai can protest, laying out his theories as if they’re discussing unexpected changes in the weather. a sharp inhale tempers his composure, fingers twitching as they tap a restless pattern in the packed dirt. approaching a problem in such a way would normally give him a much-needed sense of hope, but right now all he can see are the brambles closing in again. for once, he wants to be left alone in the dark. ]
Hurt has become an old friend to you, hasn’t it? A companion so familiar that the absence of it — and the things that might fill that space — is more frightening than its presence. So if those are my tactics, they’ve fallen short. You’re still here. [ a comfort. a nightmare. it won’t be just a shoulder or leg next time. eventually it will be somewhere vital, something he won’t recover from. ] Zoya was right to send me away. She is the most powerful Grisha I know and still she’s aware she isn’t invincible. You have yet to draw this conclusion about yourself.
[ the rest he puts away in his head to turn over later, when he’s alone. if he can convince kaz to ever leave him alone. the monster’s hunger saws at him like a physical ache, disgust rising at how he wants to leap at kaz’s heinous suggestion. another bit of his pride crumbled away. he shuts his eyes, a line of tension between his brows, struggling to pace his breath. ]
You want to feed it. [ no need to share that was his idea first, a plan to keep the beast sated and to keep his own head above water. it’s not wise to starve a monster. zoya’s bright eyes flash before him, unnaturally still, her emotions tightly locked away while delivering his sentence. ] She found me — it — feeding in the woods. Covered in blood like a damned butcher, after I toured the country making amends. If that sort of thing got out — [ doesn’t want to think of what it would do to him, his country, to zoya. for all of his anger, he’s always understood that it takes sacrifice to right terrible wrongs. the hurts he caused can’t be healed now with anything less than his absence. doesn’t make losing his home any easier to contend with. he draws in a breath. ] I won’t do it. [ the anger has bled from his eyes when he finally opens them, his gaze bruised when he looks up. ] Zoya will never allow me back home if I do.
[ but he sounds defeated even as he says it. around a haggard breath, he mutters a curse, his skull thumping against the wall. ] What did it say to you? When it spoke?
[ kaz tilts back in his chair, chin raised to take the blows nikolai deals him head-on. hurt is his only constant companion, from the ribbons of skin strewn across his family farm to the bodies clotting the water, the ache in his leg to the fresh wounds he earns every other day. if there was a time before hurt, he doesn’t remember it (swaths of sunlight, warm cocoa, his head on jordie’s bony shoulder). he lives in the aftermath. and one day, sooner rather than later, he’ll die there. of a hurt too painful, a score too grand. no mourners, no funerals. that’s what happens to thieves like him. ]
[ his rasp proves steady, confident in his next words. ] Zoya didn’t send you away from her. [ zoya, not nazyalensky. the way nikolai thinks of her. ] She sent you toward me. [ kaz lets that flickering hope struggle in the thick air between them, one of the strangest things come to pass in a time of saints and demons. zoya called him to ravka, too, not away from his responsibilities, as nikolai framed it. the direction of momentum changes everything. that’s basic physics.
even so, the why of it all remains elusive. what does she see with those dragon eyes of hers? no doubt they’ve blinked beady and white-hot with fury over his decision to leave nikolai alone. what can kaz brekker give to her dearest friend that she can’t? death? no, he decides. she could do kill him, if it was necessary. the fact that she hasn’t means there might be another way. there’s still time, even in the after. shame cracks nikolai’s features and voice. terrible. kaz anchors himself to the spot. ] And I want to feed you.
[ you. the person he cares for. specific, undeniable. inej hadn’t known she was the part that mattered, when van eck held her. that’s all kaz has wanted for some time; nikolai alive and somewhat sane, if not happy. isn’t sure he’d be capable of supporting the alternative, especially now. it’s alright. he has memories of nikolai’s laughter bottled for the long nights to come.
kaz flips open his book, leathered thumb sliding to find his place. assumed nikolai was ending the conversation there, content to sulk in his corner, until he speaks again. ]
You don’t remember. [ a question or a surprised observation, ticking up at the end of the phrase. one brow lifts just so. huh. ] It knows me through you because it listens to you. [ and you listen to me, attentive to an overwhelming degree when so little else holds his focus. why? a fool’s hope that eventually he wouldn’t find this half-dead boy wanting. straighten up. a door is a door. if it can pick nikolai’s locks and peer inside him, nikolai can return the favour. ] It said things you have already. [ his shoulders lift, too tense to commit to another shrug. ] That I can’t help you. [ don’t act as if you can hold my hand. ] And it warned me about what you haven’t said. [ propping his elbows on his thighs, kaz leans forward and splays his hands as if to dismiss those haunting possibilities. an unreliable narrator isn’t to be trusted, after all. ] That there are things you want to say — to give, but I lack the capacity for them. [ something snaps into place with the force of a broken bone. he exhales, hurt flashing across his face before he can wipe it blank. ] You agree. [ nikolai just said it: that kaz brekker fears the thing that might replace his lifelong hurt. it’s not enough. all his efforts to slip free of his armour; to cut off pieces of himself for nikolai to examine; to keep his head above water. a horrible laugh bursts from his throat.
and still he stays. ill-equipped though he may be for nikolai’s light, kaz is the only one who can take his dark. dirtyhands will do the work no one else can stomach. ]
[ zoya didn't send you away from her — but she did, she had, all his hurt and anger roiling to the surface that she would have sentenced him to such a bleak fate. should've just shot him. she sent you toward me. a laugh bubbles out of him, desolate. maybe hope has infected kaz brekker after all, because zoya would sooner see his life as expendable than think that he is what nikolai needs over his own country, over her. those are the things he lives for, those are the points that guide him. leaving him untethered from duty and expectation isn't the kindness she thought she was granting.
but zoya never grants kindnesses. she only does what needs to be done. he scowls to himself and wonders for the hundredth time how her judgment could've gone so terribly sideways. refuses to meet kaz's eyes now that his is going in the same direction. i want to feed you. every muscle tightens at the thought, warring desires tearing him in two. he never even wanted kaz to know, much less to be a part of this, but kaz could help temper this agonizing craving if only he could bear the shame of allowing him in.
while he'd hoped to glean answers from the monster's words, what kaz does say makes his heart go still. at any other time he would ask him to come to him, to put his hands on him and use a careful touch to soothe the wounded look on his face, to show him the evidence of how far he's come and the promise that still lies inside of him. kaz has always given him everything, even when all that entailed was the clasp of a hand, and it's always been enough. it was enough to fall asleep fully clothed in his bed, kaz nestled against him. he would do it again and again if he could, if the monster hadn't taken that from him too, if the thought of touching him didn't fill him with dread. his eyes lift at the sound of kaz's laugh, a gut-wrenching sound he immediately wishes he could wipe from his memory when there are so few instances of kaz's true smile.
he aches to fix this. to find the right words. the words he hasn't said are a heavy weight in his chest, too heavy to say now when he can't cross these waters, can't expose kaz to more danger than he already has. but how can he let him go on believing these things about himself when they've worked so hard to undo so much? ]
It's not the same. To be fearful of what might come in and to be at capacity. Those aren't the same things. [ that stark, wounded look replays in his mind, pulling knots inside of him. no doubt the monster said more, cutting into him with ease. did kaz wear that look then? did it hurt him this way that night they shared in his bed as well? nikolai feels sick just thinking about it. he wouldn't have even told you if you hadn't asked. he swallows, his voice quiet. ] It isn't wrong to be afraid of your desires, Kaz. It doesn't make you weak, and I don't find you lacking because of it. But there isn't anything you want that can't fit inside of you. That's the thing about opening yourself up to wanting. Once you do, there's no beginning or end. It just is. You always have the capacity, though it may take time to figure out where something might fit.
[ he drops his gaze, his brows knitting. after a long moment he closes his eyes altogether, chest rising around an unsteady breath. kaz's heartbeat has quickened again since their conversation began, an unending cadence thrumming through him. ] Let me out. [ a hollow request when he already knows it won't be so easy to get his way this time. ] I'll feed the monster on my own. If you could find it in your ever charitable heart to allow me my pride, that is.
[ nikolai’s laugh aches all the more for being something he wants in a way he never wanted it: the sound incredulous enough to burn his tender skin. another dismissal of the possibility that kaz has anything to offer him. you knew he felt this way. that nikolai only came to him because zoya sent him away. the truth picks at the wound opened by the monster and deepened by nikolai’s words. kaz knew nikolai enjoyed the idea of fixing a broken thing like him, but he’d thought there was opportunity for an exchange. it wouldn’t be so terrible to let nikolai touch his most vulnerable parts, if only kaz could do the same to him.
it's clear that nikolai isn't ready for that. might never be, in fact, with him. kaz listens in silence, hating how nikolai stumbles over his first attempt at assurance and then scolding himself more for caring. hurt has become an old friend to you. his gaze affixes to a spot on the wall beside nikolai’s bloodied hair. it isn’t wrong to be afraid, he soothes, and there have been times when he might have let nikolai convince him that were true, but sat apart, he knows it to be false. fear and shame are what make a weakness fatal.
there's no beginning or end cuts into him before he can erect new protections. letting nikolai inside has done irreversible damage. the hatch at the back of his mind is now cracked permanently, light streaming into long-dark corners. it just is. despite everything, kaz wants to discard his gloves and take nikolai's face in his hands. you can’t, even though there's more than room — there’s a damned cavern inside him. he’ll have to fill the space with something, someone, anything else. ]
Those are pretty words. [ but if nikolai truly felt differently, he would say what the demon holds over him instead of elegantly dodging that thread. he wouldn't insist on facing this alone. enough. kaz decides that wanting nikolai to be okay and wanting him can no longer coexist. they're oppositional impulses, telling him to hold firm and let go. ]
The price of your pride will be the nearest merchling’s head. [ and then nikolai’s heart in turn. there aren’t many houses near here, but he knows of enough. lotte’s boys play in the woods no matter how harshly she punishes them for it. ] Every time I slacken my grip, you escape. [ flashes of half-drowned desperation on the sand, promises made with taction in fjerda — pretty words. ] And you’re starving. What makes you think you have the control to hunt? My blood sent you into a frenzy yesterday, Lantsov. [ he slides a knife from his boot and guides it along the pulse in his exposed forearm, resting the point of blade at the crook of his elbow. kaz imagines gutting his arm and feeling fangs at his throat, a strange relief at the thought of this ending for one of them. ] Unless something has changed overnight.
[ if it has, he’ll gladly test nikolai’s resolve. there’s nothing like a high stakes gamble to keep the pain at bay. adjusting his grip on the handle, his thumb pushes down enough for the knife to make a divot in his soft flesh, skin not yet broken. the odds aren’t terrible, with dimitri likely already moving at the sound of his ricocheting heart. nikolai may yet fold. he still cares for kaz — like a child cares for a beloved and broken toy, unwilling to part with the ragged thing even when it no longer functions as intended. ]
They're true. [ an insistence that, too, rings hollow, coming from a seasoned liar. but he's never lied in these quiet moments just between the two of them, in this space that still feels unreal to him sometimes, as if pulled from his own dreams. kaz can tell when he's lashing out with untruths for reasons he's never made clear but kaz has puzzled out anyway. he should be able to parse his sincerity from the rest, too. his jaw draws tight, desperate to know what else the beast has said, what half-truths and hidden secrets it's spinning into the light, delivered with just the right accuracy to cut into kaz's pale flesh. ] The monster has no right to speak to you. Don't listen to it.
[ but he can see that it's already gotten into kaz's head, needled its way underneath his skin. the monster is me and i am the monster. are they not one and the same? he pushes away that truth, too raw to face. kaz's logic is no better, another burr in his side, another wall enclosing his prison. he doesn't want to kill. knows kaz will hold good on his promise. in the dim lamplight, he catches a glint of a blade, eyes tracking kaz's gloved hand as he brings the knife to his arm, passing over his tattoo. nikolai's throat bobs as he leans forward against his will, and when the tip of the blade pushes down just so into his soft skin, he shoots forward, his newly shortened chains stopping him short of kaz's chair. ]
Stop. Kaz — please. [ a hoarse, panicked demand, flickers of darkness fracturing his skin, but his eyes remain a steady, desperate green. he imagines kaz applying the slightest bit of pressure, the drip of blood forking down his skin, the hot rush of it on his tongue. tries to banish the thought, but the taste won't leave his mouth, his ragged breath tapering off into a whimper, hands digging into the ground. he feels the give of flesh beneath his fingers instead, a flood of red staining his hand. ] Stop. Don't bleed anymore for me. I've already — I've taken enough from you.
[ the chains creak, his gaze falling to kaz's leg, regret slicing into him at the sight. he doesn't have the control to hunt. barely has the control to share this room with him. a rasping breath shudders out of him, trying to pull closer as the shackle digs into his throat with bruising force. kaz sits just out of reach, maddeningly close and a world away at once, his hurt schooled away to anyone else, but nikolai can see the cracks in his tidy mask, cracks that he put there, cracks he keeps making worse. if only he could touch him. he's forced to pull back in order to draw in air, gaze dropping to the floor. ]
What will you do, then? [ shame gnaws at him, an incandescent tremor in his fingers as they sink further into the dirt. he looks up, his eyes sharp with wretched fury. ] Drop a wild boar in front of me and watch me eat like I'm a fucking dog? Perhaps you're curious to see what Zoya saw the moment she decided I was unfit to remain at her side. Then maybe you'll finally learn not to stay when you should go.
[ are they true? maybe. nikolai seems to believe what he says, which is hardly an indicator of truth. his conviction has upheld lies and promises that kaz would have unpicked immediately with anyone else. in the end, he tells himself it doesn’t matter. this is about nikolai, not nikolai and kaz, the way it should have been the moment kaz learned of his affliction. only the flare of anger, heating nikolai’s words — the monster has no right to speak you — gives him pause. his eyes flit back to nikolai. protective, still, after every hurt they’ve inflicted on the other.
he holds the knife in place for a moment, expression hinting at pensive. kaz, not brekker. please, something nikolai has only ever asked in intimate moments. the injury nikolai gives himself accelerates his next move. a sharp inhale. he makes a show of lifting the knife, then, grisha steel stark against his black grip. every cell vibrates with the need to reach nikolai, but he holds firm. this is a job now. he ought to treat it as such. ]
You forget who I am. [ if he ever knew, working with the brekker that’s an ally, on good behavior for the crown. he’s not the dragon queen, fierce but good in her heart, with a need to maintain appearances and win the love of a divided people. kaz brekker has taken his enemies apart piece by piece. blood has never made him squeamish.
setting his book aside, kaz stands and tucks his knife back into his boot. ]
I’m going to come closer, and you’re not going to bite me. Because you don’t want to hurt me. [ a fundamental sweetness that he lacks, all the more reason nikolai needs someone else, once the hard work is done. ] Or because we’ll both end up unconscious again. Either suits. [ a loud, razored critique, meant for dimitri to hear where he’s hovering by the door. he edges close enough to seize nikolai’s arm, leathered grip sliding down to raise his bloodied wrist. strands of dark hair slip free again as he tilts his head, assessing the wound.
with his free hand, he shakes out his emerald pocket square and applies it to nikolai’s palm, staunching the bleeding. ends up holding nikolai’s injured hand hostage between his gloves. his voice quiets, these words for nikolai alone. ] It’s your choice. [ the defiant set of kaz’s jaw softens, lips pressing together. that’s all the dignity and agency he can spare in these turbulent circumstances. ] I can go, and one of my crows can leave you food, like a prisoner. [ faintly amused. it’s a step above dog, isn’t it? ] But I’d like to see you. [ because however much nikolai is ashamed of the demon or at war with it, it’s him. kaz drags his thumb along the edge of the shackle, unable to soothe his reddened skin but wanting to very badly. old-new habits that will have nowhere to go, when this job ends. ] To understand. Will you let me?
Edited (we do not Perceive) 2022-01-17 17:00 (UTC)
[ he's not going to listen. the blade remains steady in kaz's hand, poised to draw blood, and nikolai abruptly catches a glimpse of the man kaz hasn't allowed him to see, the side he's never had a reason to show him. hardened edges, a calculating coldness, something dead in his blue-eyed stare. even the monster stills, the first breath nikolai has drawn all night that hasn't felt burdened with the weight of holding it back. he yearns to pull back the shroud, to uncover the rest, to see the monster that kaz created just to survive, because he's always wanted to know all of it. all of kaz brekker. the soft parts that hurt if he presses down too hard, and the ugly parts that make him bare his teeth if he drags them into the light. all of it lovely and fascinating to him, all of it worthy of his attention and deserving so much more than just his affection. it's a heavy weight to know he's failed to make kaz realize this.
the knife disappears, and then suddenly kaz is coming closer. nikolai fights the urge to skitter back, but kaz's grip on his arm holds firm, and he's not itching for dimitri to plummet his pulse again. his eyes dart away when kaz handles his injuries. he's too close. from here he can see the shadows pressed beneath his eyes, exhaustion sunken into his skin. how many times has nikolai reached up and tucked back the soft strands of his dark hair? he's close enough now that he could again. he could trace the sharp cut of his cheekbones, soothe the tension in his brow, warm his no doubt cold skin from the damp of the cellar or the stress of his own demons. his chains clink, and he reaches out quickly with his free hand to draw them tight, lest they brush against kaz's injured leg.
his gaze flickers up. after all the times he's shifted between man and monster, all traces of genya's tailoring has faded, his face wholly his own again, regal and elegant despite smudges of blood and dirt, the soft spray of familiar freckles across his slightly crooked nose. kaz extends what feels like an olive branch, the unexpected decency grating against his tattered pride. he lowers his head until his forehead touches kaz's knee, gritting his teeth. ]
I can't remember it. When it feeds. [ only the bloodlust of before, all consuming, and then the mess that comes after. ] I can remember sensations. The taste of blood. Flesh in my teeth. And then when I wake, the hunger is gone and the beast is sated and I'm — [ his hand curls into kaz's, a motion that comes without thinking. moments pass before he even realizes he's holding his hand. he lifts his head, trying to gather the scraps of his composure. ] Fine. Because I need to know what it's doing. Because if anyone has to see me then I want it to be you.
[ slowly, he uncurls his hand, pulling it from his grasp. means to move away, but can't, his gaze hovering on the bandages peeking through his torn trousers. now that kaz has come close he knows there are only moments before they part again, a space that will keep widening until it feels too big to cross. his fingers brush gently over the side of his thigh, feather light, to feel his bandages. the demon stirs at the touch. ]
I haven't forgotten who you are. [ a tragedy in itself. he never will. he wants to press his hand closer, higher, to places comforting and familiar, but he blinks and blood pools over the chair, dripping onto the floor, kaz split open like fruit rotting in the sun. blinks again and nothing has changed at all, kaz's steady gaze staring back at him. he withdraws his hand, his voice low. ] I know you better than all of them. I know that you want to close yourself off because of what you're feeling right now, that maybe you want to go hurt someone — or yourself, or me — but whatever you do, you cannot move backwards. Not after everything. [ that would hurt more than losing him. ] There's only ever forward.
[ he turns away, drawing in a steadying breath. ] Your plan, then. Before I change my mind.
[ there’s the unravelling — the give of flesh in his hand, nikolai's gripping his in return. it’s just as he said. when people are threatened (zoya, himself), he folds. it’s a common weakness, one that no doubt makes him less suited for the crown than nazyalensky and better suited for other pursuits, if only he’d allow himself the freedom to explore those parts of himself.
every time nikolai looks at him — with his own face, his starry eyes and constellated freckles — his heart clenches. kaz has learned to anticipate that jolt in an effort to prevent any ripples from showing on his face, but this moment bruises his resolve. the tentative way nikolai moves is different from the man who patched him up (only to undo him weeks later). ultimately, the gap in nikolai’s memory is both curious and simple. the mind often rejects what it cannot handle, but surely this is more than that. a descent into the subterranean place where the monster normally lies. because if anyone has to see me then i want it to be you. why? because you don’t fear the dark or the depths, even when you should. because you’re the same as much as you’re different. because you know how to navigate perilous waters. it's the exchange he longs for, something alarmingly close to affection bubbling just below the surface. nikolai bending into him makes it harder to deny. kaz imagines fitting a hand at the nape of his neck to hold him there. ]
[ with a crisp nod, ] I’ll tell you all I see. [ he flexes his hand, empty but for the bloodied fabric, and pockets the fabric, uncaring of the mess. ] The deal is the deal.
[ when nikolai’s fingers ghosts up his thigh, kaz tenses, unsure whether harm or help will follow. the gauze is a flimsy cover for the smoking merzost, which he’d rather not irritate, but that's not what concerns him really. i know you straightens the curve of his spine. hadn’t he said the same thing — and meant it? this truth is its natural pair: he knows you. at least the parts that have been lured into the light by his precious stones. not all of him, not yet, though that might have come in time. still too much to excise all the places he touched.
with nikolai’s next words, his thoughts crack and scatter, splintered as the shadows that break nikolai’s skin. again, kaz confronts the permanence of what they’d done to each other. he knows you. that’s why this is so painful, searing when he ought to feel nothing — where he might have, if he hadn’t walked himself down the plank and into the harbour. he blinks out of that place and finds himself balanced on the lip of equally troubled seas. there’s only ever forward.
the idea of nikolai ordering him around is as infuriating as him being right. kaz draws an uneven breath. ]
After everything. [ he repeats, eyes glinting like a blade in the light. maybe you want to hurt someone. fine. ] After a few good fucks. [ metered out slowly, the taste of the words coppery in his mouth. in kaz’s estimation, nobody hurts nikolai quite as well as nikolai himself. kaz pauses long enough to see if the shot hits the mark before turning on his heel. all light-fingered flourishes, he lifts his cane and coat as he passes the chair. a bobble in his step. his leg hurts more than it has in years. can't be helped until the demon is leashed. ] I’ll be back in time for dinner.
[ it should be comforting to know that kaz will be watching, his shrewdly clever gaze surely able to pick apart something that he's missed, something that could help ease the sting of his affliction, but he only feels as if something deep inside of him has been unseated instead, something perfectly fixed finally knocked askew. like walking around with scuffs on his boots. only zoya has seen the worst of it, wrangling him home again and again, holding him feral and bloodied until the monster left him and he was just a trembling boy in her arms. kaz braved his worst fears for you, and here you are, a damned coward. would it be more palatable if kaz wasn't being so cold about it? hard to say. sympathy has never been an easy thing to swallow, but is it so wrong in this moment to crave a bit of comfort?
you haven't earned it. there's no reason now for kaz to treat him with kindness, not after the things he's said and done. not with the stench of blood hanging fresh in the air. it couldn't be a more perfect punishment — forced to reveal all the shameful, wounded parts of himself that he tries so hard to hide, the things impossible to smile through, private hauntings he shares with no one. every day he dreams that he's past this, that he'll wake without this familiar malaise gnawing at him, and every day his fervent desire is not enough. it feels like a spreading infection. he can't bear the thought of kaz seeing him in his lowest state, his mind so fractured that he can't even hold onto the present.
their eyes meet, kaz's stony rasp parroting his own words back at him. nothing more. nikolai refuses to flinch, but it doesn't matter, because he isn't quick enough to hide the flash of regret in his eyes. no part of him wants to lash out in return. kaz tucks away everything he says in private spaces inside of himself, the good and the terrible alike, hidden away to pull out when the moment serves him. he can't risk giving him more weight to carry when he's hardly thinking straight. ]
Upstairs, in the bedroom trunk. Look in my coat pocket. [ the kaleidoscope, freshly repaired, carved with rocking waves. kaz had acted peculiar every time he touched the thing, like he was attempting to thieve his own gift back. nikolai turns away, slinking across the floor to the darkened corner. his hands are beginning to shake from hunger, and he knows soon the monster will take him. if kaz stays he'll be reduced to begging. better for him to go, so he can hold on to the delusion of his pride for a little while longer. ] There's something there for you.
in the sitting room, he settles into an armchair with a huffed exhale. the pain in his leg is worse than his shoulder, an eerie doubling of past and present. there’s a sheen of dust over everything that suggests nikolai never allowed himself the meagre comforts of this place. why would he? when he rarely allows himself comfort of any kind. rubbing his temples, kaz ignores dimitri asking after his well-being with a curt order, sending him to search the bedroom and fetch whatever nikolai has left him. scraps of paper, no doubt. strange drawings and half-rambles. perhaps something dead, as dogs do. he imagines that even if he were accustomed to — whatever category their entanglement falls under, it still wouldn’t make much sense. the division of his team leaves him alone for precious moments, awaiting anika and rotty’s return with game. injured, but not dead. preferably from the land owned by that twat of mercher from east stave. requested long before nikolai gave him permission to walk this path. some things are inevitable.
when dimitri offers him the kaleidoscope, fixed and altered, kaz accepts it gingerly, forcing his features to remain blank. he made this for you. an item without any practical function. he fixed it for you. without question. shame burns up his lungs, every breath aching.
open your hand, he says, hushed but sure, instructive the way kaz brekker can only be with his crew. he gentles the kaleidoscope into dimitri’s open palm without touching it, gloves protecting his skin. keep this safe. a nod and he resumes his position guarding the cellar. kaz lingers at the door. after a pause, he tidies his rolled sleeves. a tap of his cane calls all eyes to him before he tucks it under his arm and accepts a lantern from anika. in and out, rotty. no matter what you hear, you stay where you are.
it’s a slow descent into the cellar, body sore from his fall and leg smarting far more acutely on the uneven stone. how had he weathered the tear in his shoulder for so long? the gash in his hand, pain in every movement? (he knows how. the same way he managed to carry inej without buckling.) rotty grunts behind him, a young stag struggling in his arms. it’s not injured, but it is bloody — antlers crimson from shedding, tissue hanging off the bone. no more macabre than either of them, he supposes. ]
I broke it not long after I left. [ called out to nikolai wherever he hides in darkness. a relief. better that only dimitri knows who they keep in chains. loyalty's a tough habit to break. ] On the ship. [ at the foot of the stairs, his weight shifts from the bad leg to the good. once rotty lowers the animal, he turns and takes the steps back two at a time (but not before levelling an uneasy look at kaz, something frightened in his big eyes). their business keeps them away from the strangest things in ketterdam, or so he has always thought. a jerk of his head (out), and kaz continues undeterred. the stag stumbles to its feet. ] I was careless with it. [ with you, he means and yet can’t bring himself to say. nikolai apologises when he does wrong, bravery in the face of his mounting sins, but kaz — he swallows. ] It’s safe now.
[ being examined for clues in dimitri’s shaky hands, surely. he hopes that the care being taken communicates what he can’t say aloud, not now. the door closes behind him. a harsh thud and snick tell of the deadbolt securing it before the dregs bought this place, it was used to smuggle people into the city. a prison ready-made for nikolai’s use, though it was never intended for him.
kaz haunts the edges of the room, removing the flame from his lantern to light a few candles along the wall on one side. it takes him longer than it ought to double-back and do the same on the other. ]
You should know that there was a boy who helped Pekka Rollins kill my brother and I. [ the stag keeps by the stairs, away from the shadows, although the rope looped around its neck drags and pools on the hard floor. kaz leans against the stone wall, exhaling under the flickering light diagonal from nikolai. ] He said his name was Filip, and he sold wind-up dogs that caught every canal rat’s eye. The sort of thing only someone with a family could afford. [ can’t risk closing his eyes in the demon’s house. he pushes off the wall to limp onward and light the last two points out of nikolai’s clawed reach. ] When I came back, [ from the harbour, from the dead. ] I found him running a monte game on the Kelstraat. It was easy to expose him to his marks. [ he crosses to rejoin the stag, gloved hand soothing its back. ] And easier to let them hurt him, but it didn’t feel like enough. [ a beat. ] So I tortured him for two days. [ and it wasn't enough. he bends to lift the rope, looping it around his arm and then tossing the bundle within nikolai’s grasp. ] Then I shoved a wind-up key down his throat until he bled inside and out. Almost enough. For a start.
[ on the long con that led him to rollins and nikolai both. it hardly matters now, as he steps back and rests both hands on his cane. whatever animalistic brutality nikolai harbours inside him, it's no worse than the intentional, human cruelty kaz honed to become ketterdam's shadow. ]
[ the battle is already lost when kaz returns, nikolai's tenuous grasp on his humanity sliding inch by miserable inch from his bloodied hands. remember who you are, muttered like a prayer beneath his breath, again and again as if the pieces of his identity can tether him here. prince. bastard. second son of a disgraced king. everything he's ever been, every title he's ever held, recited in some foolish hope to stay. he thinks of his friends, of the people he loves. zoya. dominik. kaz. all more painful than the last to linger on. in the end it doesn't matter, the agony of the monster's hunger eroding away his fortitude, leaving him small and helpless in the face of such boundless need.
then, kaz's voice. eyes already blackened dart toward the sound, toward blood and multiple heartbeats. nikolai wants to call back even as he feels teeth crowd his mouth, nothing but a low growl in his throat. broke what? the kaleidoscope, hidden in his pocket. kaz must have found it. why is he explaining such a thing? if he could think properly he could glean the meaning behind his words. kaz isn't like him; he rarely speaks just to hear his own voice. think. he was careless with it but it's safe now. could he be talking about him? he wants to answer, would do anything for speech to return to his tongue, but maybe it's all the better that it doesn't, because he would tell him what he's known since the very first time he woke miles away from the palace, covered in blood and bruises, a harrowing gap in his memories. there are no safe places anymore.
kaz's story runs through his head as if coming from a faraway place. the rope thuds mere feet away, and the monster springs forward, clawed hands yanking so hard the stag's neck twists at an unnatural angle, dragging across the floor into the darkness, bloodied antlers scraping against stone. not quite dead. it kicks and fights as nikolai descends upon it, splitting it open chest to belly. a mangled cry fills the space.
i tortured him for two days. nikolai doesn't imagine the crime. instead what comes to mind is the sort of hurt kaz must have felt to be compelled do such a thing, to think that that would somehow heal the wound inside of him. of course it hadn't. it couldn't have. those sorts of things never do. but there couldn't have been anyone to tell him that, either. there was only ever the white-hot fuel of his rage and grief, at least until he'd met his close companions. after that what had been left? the loneliness of never being able to draw close to them? nikolai has often wondered what would have become of kaz brekker if they hadn't divested each other of their secrets. surely someone else would have found a way to open him up. wouldn't they? but what would have become of you? no one but kaz could have found the heart.
something skids across the floor to land at kaz's feet, a trail of blood in its wake. the stag's heart, twitching with its last bit of life. nikolai's teeth sink into the stag's throat, tearing through flesh and bone. it makes no sound now, blood soaking the ground, hungry snarls from deep within the monster's throat as it crunches through bone and muscle. nikolai catches only flashes, as if he's being held underwater. hard to distinguish between the taste of human or animal, blood filling his mouth. is it happening again? can't be. kaz wouldn't let it. kaz promised he'd kill him first. but what if he can't do it? what if for all the stories kaz tells him to try to convince him that he's terrible instead of hurting, he still hesitates when it's nikolai?
the stag is reduced to hide and bones and bloodied antlers. the monster picks at the carcass until it's clean, leaving it in a strangely tidy heap before turning away, the candles lining the walls trembling as his shadowy wings flutter. they soon settle, slowly shrinking and then dissipating altogether. inky waves of black sea carry nikolai to shore, consciousness swarming back to him. he buckles, gagging, something sharp in his mouth. dragging himself back to the darkened corner, he fishes out two slim bones hidden beside his teeth, the reason immediately apparent. for lockpicking. he wants to cast them aside but wedges them beneath a stone instead. all he can manage for how badly he's shaking, his skin chilled as if he's been left all night in the snow.
blood fills his mouth, trails down his throat, soaks his clothes. he shuts his eyes, his breath short, his fingers digging into the shackle around his throat, but the tremors and the slick blood keep him from gaining a solid grip. panic claws at him, but he forces himself to calm. zoya will come for him. she always does. she won't because she sent you away. a quiet sound lodges in his throat, but he refuses to let it pass any further. remember who you are. he tries to stop the tremors, but they don't subside, his chains rattling in the dark. cold skitters across his skin. you've braved worse than this. but he hasn't. this is the worst, the waking and not remembering, the feel of the monster coiling like a sleeping serpent inside of him, not knowing when it will wake again.
kaz will come if you ask. but he can't make himself form the words. maybe because he can't yet speak. maybe because he's not sure, after everything, that he really will. ]
[ if kaz were wholly honest with nikolai, he’d have said that he never thought this would reveal some secret insight into the demon. a weakness, a strategy. granted, there’s more precision in its kill than kaz would have anticipated. a methodical bent to its madness: killing quick and brutal, then scraping the carcass clean. proof that it could have gutted kaz brekker and left him unrecognisable, if it wanted. if nikolai let it. it’s a horrible thing to witness, but kaz has watched horrors unfold since he was small. he keeps his eyes trained on nikolai, tracking the gleam of his teeth in the light. otherwise, the body he knows better than any other becomes shadow itself, an unnatural, slinking thing. the night-black wings that lifted him from the undersea and spirited nikolai into the snow almost shimmer in the candlelight. suddenly, the leaking heart skids toward him, inhuman in size. an offering or a warning. hadn’t kaz gifted nikolai something just as unsettling? he paces to the side, head canted to get a better look at the carnage (although he knows the wretched sounds to be crunching bone and tearing flesh, familiar).
nikolai drops and, without thought or intent, kaz moves toward him. unspeakable violence collapses inward, the way it always does. hitching breaths and rattling chains fill the room. in aching moments, kaz drapes his coat across nikolai's shoulders. a gift from inej’s travels, given over to ruination. he doesn’t think about that. all he can think of is nikolai, bloodied and shaking. for so many years, kaz has lingered in doorways, unable to cross the threshold into intimacy, every touch imbued with terror. but because of the irreversible happenings between them — kaz lowers himself to sit behind nikolai, hissing at the pain in his leg. after prying those desperate hands from his throat, kaz wraps his arms around him. with the coat as armour, it’s easier to weather the plague’s spectre, tremors and chills threatening them both. after what nikolai showed him — his most vulnerable, shameful parts — it’s hardly an adequate repayment.
nosing into nikolai’s bloodied hair, his mouth brushes above the shackle at his neck. the deer’s abrupt, violent near-end flashes before him, neck bent unnaturally. ]
Breathe, Nikolai. [ leather fingers test the give of the shackle against nikolai’s surely bruised neck. enough. blood slicks his glove, but he could open this lock underwater. a click, and he slips it off. ] I have you. [ wherever nikolai is, subsumed by the demon or protected by his vital systems. sometimes, we forget what we can’t manage. the mind’s coping mechanism cannibalises its primary functions. ] You killed the stag, and I watched you, Nikolai. Just like we agreed. [ the rough burr of his voice is as steady as it’s ever been. ] That’s all.
[ nikolai nikolai nikolai. you can’t keep him just by saying his name. not here, not like this.
there’s something he wants to say, lodged in his throat. an explanation, a promise. an unsayable thing. he can choke down his wanting for nikolai to be anything but this. safe. fed. if kaz could bring himself to let go, he would remove the remaining fetters and carry nikolai back into the light. hard not to yearn to give him the comforts he refuses to take for himself. a warm bath, a clean bed, closeness. maybe nikolai will allow such things from someone else, with a greater capacity for — the thing kaz can’t bring himself to think, because it can’t be unthought, and it has nowhere to go. all his attempts at comforting nikolai have ended in exile, and this will be no different. ]
[ kaz's voice burns through him, familiar. something gives at his throat and he can breathe again, arms braced around him as if they can hold him together. zoya would throw her kefta over him sometimes, silver fox fur tickling his shivering skin, the scent of wildflowers wafting to his nose. something to take away the hot, metallic odor of blood. kaz's coat is decidedly unfurry but just as warm, finely tailored wool on the outside and silky on the inside, scented like freshly turned earth just after the rain and smoky leather. nikolai takes a ragged breath. another. imagines they're out on the docks, the salt spray of the sea dampening their skin. imagines kaz's hand in his, leather on skin. imagines his lips tasting like the ocean when he kisses him.
slowly, his eyes open. kaz's cold nose has warmed against the back of his neck, his arms steady around him as his tremors lessen. you killed the stag. nothing more. kaz wouldn't let anything worse happen, knows he wouldn't be able to bear it. his breath shivers as he exhales. opens his mouth and tries for words. wants to cry with relief when he finds that language has returned to him. ]
It's not a threat anymore. [ not now. only became one because nikolai deprived it of something essential. his failure sits like a stone in the pit of his stomach. what now? the same as always. try again. find a way. his eyes slip shut as he leans back into the circle of kaz's arms — not purposeful. the strength goes out of him, the weight of exhaustion hitting him all at once. his hand grasps weakly at kaz's leather-clad knuckles, mumbling quietly before he slips off into the dark. ] You were a child, Brekker. No one ever taught you what to do with your sorrow. Stop trying to convince me that you're evil.
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at least kaz has the sense to stay back. nikolai stopped eating two days ago, and broke his last bottle of brandy in frustration, jagged shards of glass littering the floor. doesn't know how much time has really passed. the monster has finally stopped trying to kill him, and he's been sitting still for hours, maybe a day, maybe longer, thinking of the thorn wood. of zoya in her amber prison, of how the monster was quick to save her again and again. of his strange attachment to kaz, of how he should have found him dead by now but hasn't. there's an answer somewhere to all of this — he just needs more time.
but time, even if kaz hadn't shown up, is running short. he hasn't slept, hasn't eaten. now that he's broken out of his thoughts it's impossible to ignore the pain igniting his body with each movement, the dark stains of blood on his clothes. the bandages around his wrists are soaked, and the irons clapped around them look like they're covered in rust. his head hasn't stopped aching since he woke in kaz's bed.
kaz. he flicks his eyes toward his. hard to tell what color they are in the shadows, but kaz's eyes are as blue as ever, lit by the silvery glow above from the open door. must be night. the thump of kaz's cane reverberating through his ears is replaced by his heartbeat, by the steady rush of blood. he imagines pressing two fingers against his throat and feeling the pulse of life. imagines his mouth there instead, then his teeth. fuck. why did he come? ]
Get out. [ voice rough from disuse. he shifts, his clawed hands bracing against the earthen floor, a groan falling unbidden from his lips as he crawls a step forward, then stops. go back. a low growl starts in his throat, his chains rattling, before it abruptly cuts off. a ragged breath lifts his chest, and his eyes glint, the briefest flash of darkened gold as he swallows down the taste of blood in his mouth. darkness fractures one side of his face, the side he keeps away from the light, hidden from kaz's eyes. ] Come closer. Please. [ he tilts his face, his cheekbone bruised, a shock of his red-gold hair matted with blood. kaz's pulse grows louder. ] Where have you been?
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[ jaw set from holding back, ] I think not. [ his cane thuds on the ground for a final time, gloved hands folded over the topper. ] I told you I had business elsewhere. Do you believe I should give you more than that, when you haven’t deigned to inform me of your plans and movements in my city — after I let you stay in my bed? [ he tutts. reaching into his coat pocket, he retrieves a bone light and holds it aloft, eerie green glancing off his features and encroaching on nikolai’s shadowy corner. a bruise blossoms under his jaw, with fresh cuts mending on his cheek and neck, just above the pristine knot of his tie.
even in profile, nikolai looks cadaverous. as sickly as jordie was in his last days and as badly beaten as kaz has ever been. his pulse quickens at the sight of him, at the thought of the transformations that have surely wrought this. it makes kaz want to slide his hands along his body and feel the extent of the damage — to seize his heart and dissect it, if only to better understand why. his eyes betray him, searching for answers in every inch of illuminated skin. he has to pinch his expression and walk them back to their target, dragging up the tense line of nikolai’s neck, his darkened cheek, and stopping on a hazel eye. can’t help but think of the blood matting blonde above it. is that from nikolai's wrists, or is he hurt there, too? he should have brought milena, only there’s no guarantee anyone will be able to draw near.
his mouth purses. ]
What’s your game, Lantsov? Speak honestly or I’ll end it. [ might still end it, granted. ]
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the fresh wounds marring kaz's skin get a bit of notice. nikolai wonders who put them there, whether they're still alive for it. kaz looks otherwise immaculate, a trait he respects. doesn't want to think about how he looks right now. can't be worse than how he feels, but he runs his tongue along his bloodied lip and changes his mind. tragic, really. the thought slips from his mind. hard to focus on anything but the rapid quickening of kaz's pulse, the way he smells of blood and leather and rain, how badly he wants him to come closer. deep in his throat, the growl begins again, sharp fingertips curling into the dirt before he prowls a step closer, then another, slowly circling. his palm grinds against a shard of broken glass, and the growling abruptly ceases. nikolai swings his gaze upwards, distraught. ]
Leave me. [ he turns his palm up, wincing as he dislodges the bloodied glass. ] You're good at that. [ pain flares in his side as if in punishment for his words. kaz doesn't deserve them, not when nikolai has left him just the same. he shuts his eyes, trying to block out the ever present thrum of blood. the monster's hunger cuts into him with a blade's precision. he can't. zoya will never allow him home. sudden anger floods him, that he's here, that he can't best this, that he can't touch kaz when it's all he wants to do. the chains snap taut as he lunges at him, iron biting into his flesh, his eyes shattered black, darkness crawling across his skin. his voice turns cold and mocking, lacking nikolai's warmth. ] You don't want honesty. You can't take it. His honesty would make you run howling for the door. Who put those marks on you, Brekker?
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as nikolai shifts in the light, kaz confronts the extent of the damage. never should have left him alone for this long. shouldn’t have let him leave in the first place, zoya had been quick to remind him. useless, spiralling unrealities, at odds with the one thing he knows to be true: people can’t be kept. he tucks the light into his coat, its glow clearing his path wherever he walks. his stare follows nikolai’s movements (a wolf’s pace) and the centimeters of glass disappearing into his palm (a mechanism of control but whose?). caught between man and monster, no doubt. he thinks of niamh’s clean stab at the card table, straight through muscle and sinew, between the gap in bones. if you know where to cut someone, you can flay them like a jacket.
and nikolai knows, slashing along their freshest wound. it doesn’t disarm him as much as drag him forward, out of his mind’s wreckage and into this dungeon. if he deserves anything, it’s nikolai’s anger. before he can respond, nikolai goes away inside — or the better part of him does, at any rate. when nikolai lunges, kaz's brows heighten their arch in lieu of a flinch. no need. the chains hold. his math on the distance between them proves correct. ]
I’m not much for running these days. [ he tips his cane at nikolai and limps along the invisible line separating them, genuine amusement sparking in his eyes despite his ever-present scowl. as for its question, well, kaz runs a finger over the cut on his forehead, drawn tight by a butterfly stitch to encourage its healing. there’s something tucked inside the phrasing, concerned with the marks, not the injury. ]
[ one shoulder lifts into a shrug. ] Should’ve bit me a smidge higher, if you wanted to ward off competitors. [ a lot of people want to tear him open, you know. his gloved thumb follows the red line at his neck now, skin tender. can feel how his pulse ratchets despite his composure, which means nikolai will no doubt hear it, too. ] And you do want something, don’t you? [ in general — and perhaps from him, specifically. eyes narrowed on nikolai, he presses his nail in until he breaks the skin and red pearls down his throat. ] At least to eat.
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the words kaz says are nonsensical for long moments, only half-listening, desperate to go back to the thorn wood, to turn over every stone in search of answers. then something snags in his mind, snapping him to attention, a bolt of unwanted fear streaking through his core. ]
Is it speaking to you? [ should've bit me a smidge higher. kaz's pulse roars with renewed fervor, and nikolai watches his thumb dig into his throat, harder, kaz's gaze unflinching. nikolai's panic builds, his control slipping. when? just now, of course. he could do anything to him and wouldn't remember until it was far too late. might never remember. kaz never seems to grasp the severity of his condition — perhaps he just has too much faith in him, or too much reckless arrogance in himself. why isn't he afraid? it's the last thought he has before blood beads from the wound at his neck, the monster's hunger snatching command. this time his shadowy wings burst forth, shifting pieces of wispy darkness brushing the ceiling, plunging the room into deeper gloom. kaz's bone light offers only the dimmest glow, casting them both in shadows, nikolai's eyes once again the color of pitch, his skin fractured like glass, onyx teeth glinting.
his words turn rough, his bared fangs level with kaz's throat as his wings beat wildly, chains clattering. ] You know why he turns away from you? Why he left your bed? Because you're not enough. The things he desires most, you can never give him. The words he wishes to give to you, you have no room in your heart to take. Why do you think he always leaves you without a word? You'll never be any of the things he truly values. You'll always be that half-dead boy drowning among the corpses, desperate for a little bit of light.
[ a vile crack sounds, the chain binding his right hand rattling before it abruptly sags, then falls to the ground, his wrist sliding free, the bone light revealing his thumb broken at an unnatural angle. he dives for kaz's bad leg, his claws sinking into his thigh as they both hit the ground, the sudden shock of pain jolting nikolai back to himself. blood. the stench of it fills his senses, his hand slick with it as he rolls onto his side. even in the darkness he can see blood soaking kaz's trousers, his heartbeat going still. he pushes up, scrambling toward him, but his remaining chains pull taut, snapping him back. a ragged breath falls from his lips. ]
Let me out. You have to. [ his voice breaks, words unsteady. he has to give in. if the demon takes control once more, kaz won't be quick enough to make it up the stairs on that leg. ] Pick the locks. Just let me out, Brekker, otherwise — I'm afraid I can't stop myself from killing you. [ he thrusts out his bound wrist. ] Let me go and I'll come back for you.
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perhaps he overestimated how long he would last down here. everything happens faster than he anticipated, the clang of a chain snapping and the subsequent explosion, shrapnel in his leg — claws, he corrects. he doesn’t scream, the pain too acute for the body to process, adrenaline severing the limb. all he can do is push himself upright, gaze swiveling to his leg. at the sight, the terrible pain finally reaches his face, mouth wrenched open by a broken sound. a full-bodied wince follows his attempt to move. saints, he hopes nikolai hasn’t punctured a vein, or he really ought to have brought milena to this wretched place, for his own sake. can’t tell the difference between the thrum of his pulse and the beat of nikolai’s wings, both thunderous in his ears.
up close, his black teeth look rotted. kaz wonders what it would be like for them to rest on his jugular and take what they want. then you’d be fully dead instead of half, jordie warns. ]
No. [ panic infiltrates his voice. ] You won’t come back. You never — [ you never do. nikolai will do something terrible, and kaz will have to kill him. and then he’ll be gone. his heartbeat slows, eyes drooping with it. can’t be the blood loss, has to be — he snaps. ] Stop bloody lying. [ ignoring the pangs scaling his chest, kaz leans forward, bloodied leather hands bypassing nikolai’s shackle to hold his face. ] Nikolai, look at me. I’m keeping you.
[ which is the last thing he says before dimitri knocks them both out in his desperate bid to keep everyone alive. when nikolai wakes, he’ll find his worst wounds bandaged, snug to his skin beneath the repaired chains, anchored at the wall perpendicular to where they were before. the seamless transition from metal to rock suggests a durast’s hand. his broken thumb has been set and taped to his palm, too, with water and bread placed within his grasp.
decidedly out of reach, sat in one chair with his bad leg propped on another and a little black book in hand, is kaz. a lamp flickers on the floor at his side. from the look of him, a healer was involved, after all. taupe bandages peak out of the holes torn into his trouser leg by nikolai’s claws. specks of blood dot the collar of his white shirt, but it’s otherwise still crisp and cinched by his black vest, tie knotted cleanly at the heart of him.
the chains shift, nikolai stirring. a lock of hair falls in kaz’s face, and he tidies it back without looking up. ]
Evening, darling. [ he raises his arm in an absent-minded sort of wave, sleeve rolled to his elbow but leather gloves still in place. ] You never asked if I came alone. [ so, technically, he didn’t lie. ] But I suppose that’s for the best, since your lodger seemed confident I hadn’t. And it is charming that you both think I’m naive in the matter of, well, you. [ the collective you, man and monster. ]
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but what he does find is kaz as tidy as ever despite bloodstains and bandages. nikolai's vision finally rights. he's not dreaming. kaz is too far to touch, but he's here. alive. you didn't kill him. he looks down at his hand, the memory of his claws gouging into his flesh rushing back, but there are only blackened fingertips now, his scars disappearing beneath fresh bandages. a pulse of protest runs through his broken thumb when he tries without success to move it, his chains clinking softly. eyes back to kaz, who still hasn't looked up. what happened? the boy. dimitri. no question that he knows who he is now. there's a fair amount of humor in the whole thing, but he's afraid if he starts to laugh that it won't come out the way he intends it to.
charming. nikolai swallows, his throat clicking. kaz has provided him nothing stronger than a pitcher of water, a glass already poured. absolutely hateful. he reaches for it anyway and drinks it to the dregs, thinking of all the things he needs to say. there's too much to even know where to begin. ]
Why are you still here? [ always staying when he should go. it's not exactly the right thing to say, but an important point nonetheless. apologies can be scheduled for a later date, if only he lives. ] Leave me. I told you I would handle this on my own.
[ because it's one thing to restrain himself in a dingy cellar and face the monster. quite another to have kaz looming over him like a damned jailer. his pride has already steadily weathered away over the last several days; he doesn't need kaz to look up and effectively decay the rest.
and yet he longs for just that. for kaz to look up, away from whatever captures his attention in that accursed book. to look at him instead, despite his dismal, pitiable state. he forces himself to set the glass down gently instead of giving into the urge to shatter it. he's broken enough things lately. kaz was the first warm thing he touched in days and he nearly broke him, too. did he cry out? can't remember. the moment is hazy, full of blood and hunger, a pulsing heartbeat on his tongue. his jaw ticks at the thought of more time lost to the monster, but then thinks maybe it's better that it is. less of kaz's pain in his dreams, at least. hands on his face, blue eyes panicked and determined at once, kaz's lips moving in a silent plea. he shudders, shame warming his cheeks. ]
Your leg. [ he forces his voice steady, eyes flickering down. how could he have done such a thing? ] It's not going to heal. [ just like his shoulder had, the wound will linger. his termite had extracted the merzost infecting him last time, ever resourceful, ever surprising. nina zenik in fucking fjerda. the mere thought of setting foot on that snowy soil once more sends panic skittering down his spine. no choice. no, there's always a choice. ] I'll sail you to see Nina Zenik myself. Or you can shoot me. My death will be a much quicker solution to your problem. [ a beat. ] It's me. If you're not going to listen to anything I say, at least have the decency to look at me as you sit there and ignore all good sense.
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kaz closes his book, pen tucked inside to hold his place, and slowly lifts his head, tilting it to the side as his icy gaze settles on nikolai. you already looked your fill. after dimitri awakened him first, panic flowing from his mouth and hands, shaking his shoulders. a steady touch wiped the blood from his throat to ignite his pulse the way only someone uninitiated would dare touch him — didn’t meant to knock you out, boss. are you alright, boss. boss, is that — a headache and a half, his heartbeat and nausea running competitive currents through him, keeping his corpse shambling along. he imagines nikolai is animated by a similar duality now.
his mouth twitches, wanting to give away more than he’ll allow. ]
I know. [ that it’s nikolai, that he ought to see zenik, that nikolai would rather like to be shot in the head. ] The more I talk with the other you, the better I am at spotting the differences — and the similarities. [ for a moment, kaz looks away to slip his gloved hands under his thigh and swings his leg off the chair, careful to extend it slowly. the familiar ache of his old injury tangles with the searing burn of the new. merzost. something he’s learned more about since stealing from the ravkan palace’s grand library. ] It doesn’t want to kill me. [ a swift amendment. ] Not as a priority. It’d prefer to scare me into abandoning you willingly. Why do you think it attacked me somewhere that makes no difference? [ seeing as he already has a marvellous cane, leaning against his chair. ] I have two theories so far. The first is that it would like to isolate you. Maybe that would allow it to consume you and take control permanently. You went under faster and longer after being alone than you did in my room after being with me. [ it was seamless in both instances, regardless, something they need to unpick. ] The second is — it’s you. [ kaz bores into him, dreading and anticipating a reaction to his quiet observations. ] Part of you. Because you try to protect me the same way — by hurting me enough to create distance between us. And sometimes, I let you. [ a quick dip of his chin, acknowledging it to himself. ] But not anymore. I won’t leave you alone with your demons, Nikolai. [ he said that a long time ago and meant it. means it still, an oath renewed. sealed in blood. ]
I think we should feed it. [ we. a beat. he blinks and then gestures between them, as if that explains how his theories led him to this action. ] Livestock.
[ not people, which he admittedly suggested previously. ]
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the more i talk with the other you — it makes nikolai snap to attention, his gaze finally sharpening. that kaz speaks to it at all leaves an ashen taste in his mouth, a kind of unreasonable betrayal, but more than that, it's helplessness that settles like lead in his bones. kaz continues before nikolai can protest, laying out his theories as if they’re discussing unexpected changes in the weather. a sharp inhale tempers his composure, fingers twitching as they tap a restless pattern in the packed dirt. approaching a problem in such a way would normally give him a much-needed sense of hope, but right now all he can see are the brambles closing in again. for once, he wants to be left alone in the dark. ]
Hurt has become an old friend to you, hasn’t it? A companion so familiar that the absence of it — and the things that might fill that space — is more frightening than its presence. So if those are my tactics, they’ve fallen short. You’re still here. [ a comfort. a nightmare. it won’t be just a shoulder or leg next time. eventually it will be somewhere vital, something he won’t recover from. ] Zoya was right to send me away. She is the most powerful Grisha I know and still she’s aware she isn’t invincible. You have yet to draw this conclusion about yourself.
[ the rest he puts away in his head to turn over later, when he’s alone. if he can convince kaz to ever leave him alone. the monster’s hunger saws at him like a physical ache, disgust rising at how he wants to leap at kaz’s heinous suggestion. another bit of his pride crumbled away. he shuts his eyes, a line of tension between his brows, struggling to pace his breath. ]
You want to feed it. [ no need to share that was his idea first, a plan to keep the beast sated and to keep his own head above water. it’s not wise to starve a monster. zoya’s bright eyes flash before him, unnaturally still, her emotions tightly locked away while delivering his sentence. ] She found me — it — feeding in the woods. Covered in blood like a damned butcher, after I toured the country making amends. If that sort of thing got out — [ doesn’t want to think of what it would do to him, his country, to zoya. for all of his anger, he’s always understood that it takes sacrifice to right terrible wrongs. the hurts he caused can’t be healed now with anything less than his absence. doesn’t make losing his home any easier to contend with. he draws in a breath. ] I won’t do it. [ the anger has bled from his eyes when he finally opens them, his gaze bruised when he looks up. ] Zoya will never allow me back home if I do.
[ but he sounds defeated even as he says it. around a haggard breath, he mutters a curse, his skull thumping against the wall. ] What did it say to you? When it spoke?
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[ his rasp proves steady, confident in his next words. ] Zoya didn’t send you away from her. [ zoya, not nazyalensky. the way nikolai thinks of her. ] She sent you toward me. [ kaz lets that flickering hope struggle in the thick air between them, one of the strangest things come to pass in a time of saints and demons. zoya called him to ravka, too, not away from his responsibilities, as nikolai framed it. the direction of momentum changes everything. that’s basic physics.
even so, the why of it all remains elusive. what does she see with those dragon eyes of hers? no doubt they’ve blinked beady and white-hot with fury over his decision to leave nikolai alone. what can kaz brekker give to her dearest friend that she can’t? death? no, he decides. she could do kill him, if it was necessary. the fact that she hasn’t means there might be another way. there’s still time, even in the after. shame cracks nikolai’s features and voice. terrible. kaz anchors himself to the spot. ] And I want to feed you.
[ you. the person he cares for. specific, undeniable. inej hadn’t known she was the part that mattered, when van eck held her. that’s all kaz has wanted for some time; nikolai alive and somewhat sane, if not happy. isn’t sure he’d be capable of supporting the alternative, especially now. it’s alright. he has memories of nikolai’s laughter bottled for the long nights to come.
kaz flips open his book, leathered thumb sliding to find his place. assumed nikolai was ending the conversation there, content to sulk in his corner, until he speaks again. ]
You don’t remember. [ a question or a surprised observation, ticking up at the end of the phrase. one brow lifts just so. huh. ] It knows me through you because it listens to you. [ and you listen to me, attentive to an overwhelming degree when so little else holds his focus. why? a fool’s hope that eventually he wouldn’t find this half-dead boy wanting. straighten up. a door is a door. if it can pick nikolai’s locks and peer inside him, nikolai can return the favour. ] It said things you have already. [ his shoulders lift, too tense to commit to another shrug. ] That I can’t help you. [ don’t act as if you can hold my hand. ] And it warned me about what you haven’t said. [ propping his elbows on his thighs, kaz leans forward and splays his hands as if to dismiss those haunting possibilities. an unreliable narrator isn’t to be trusted, after all. ] That there are things you want to say — to give, but I lack the capacity for them. [ something snaps into place with the force of a broken bone. he exhales, hurt flashing across his face before he can wipe it blank. ] You agree. [ nikolai just said it: that kaz brekker fears the thing that might replace his lifelong hurt. it’s not enough. all his efforts to slip free of his armour; to cut off pieces of himself for nikolai to examine; to keep his head above water. a horrible laugh bursts from his throat.
and still he stays. ill-equipped though he may be for nikolai’s light, kaz is the only one who can take his dark. dirtyhands will do the work no one else can stomach. ]
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but zoya never grants kindnesses. she only does what needs to be done. he scowls to himself and wonders for the hundredth time how her judgment could've gone so terribly sideways. refuses to meet kaz's eyes now that his is going in the same direction. i want to feed you. every muscle tightens at the thought, warring desires tearing him in two. he never even wanted kaz to know, much less to be a part of this, but kaz could help temper this agonizing craving if only he could bear the shame of allowing him in.
while he'd hoped to glean answers from the monster's words, what kaz does say makes his heart go still. at any other time he would ask him to come to him, to put his hands on him and use a careful touch to soothe the wounded look on his face, to show him the evidence of how far he's come and the promise that still lies inside of him. kaz has always given him everything, even when all that entailed was the clasp of a hand, and it's always been enough. it was enough to fall asleep fully clothed in his bed, kaz nestled against him. he would do it again and again if he could, if the monster hadn't taken that from him too, if the thought of touching him didn't fill him with dread. his eyes lift at the sound of kaz's laugh, a gut-wrenching sound he immediately wishes he could wipe from his memory when there are so few instances of kaz's true smile.
he aches to fix this. to find the right words. the words he hasn't said are a heavy weight in his chest, too heavy to say now when he can't cross these waters, can't expose kaz to more danger than he already has. but how can he let him go on believing these things about himself when they've worked so hard to undo so much? ]
It's not the same. To be fearful of what might come in and to be at capacity. Those aren't the same things. [ that stark, wounded look replays in his mind, pulling knots inside of him. no doubt the monster said more, cutting into him with ease. did kaz wear that look then? did it hurt him this way that night they shared in his bed as well? nikolai feels sick just thinking about it. he wouldn't have even told you if you hadn't asked. he swallows, his voice quiet. ] It isn't wrong to be afraid of your desires, Kaz. It doesn't make you weak, and I don't find you lacking because of it. But there isn't anything you want that can't fit inside of you. That's the thing about opening yourself up to wanting. Once you do, there's no beginning or end. It just is. You always have the capacity, though it may take time to figure out where something might fit.
[ he drops his gaze, his brows knitting. after a long moment he closes his eyes altogether, chest rising around an unsteady breath. kaz's heartbeat has quickened again since their conversation began, an unending cadence thrumming through him. ] Let me out. [ a hollow request when he already knows it won't be so easy to get his way this time. ] I'll feed the monster on my own. If you could find it in your ever charitable heart to allow me my pride, that is.
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it's clear that nikolai isn't ready for that. might never be, in fact, with him. kaz listens in silence, hating how nikolai stumbles over his first attempt at assurance and then scolding himself more for caring. hurt has become an old friend to you. his gaze affixes to a spot on the wall beside nikolai’s bloodied hair. it isn’t wrong to be afraid, he soothes, and there have been times when he might have let nikolai convince him that were true, but sat apart, he knows it to be false. fear and shame are what make a weakness fatal.
there's no beginning or end cuts into him before he can erect new protections. letting nikolai inside has done irreversible damage. the hatch at the back of his mind is now cracked permanently, light streaming into long-dark corners. it just is. despite everything, kaz wants to discard his gloves and take nikolai's face in his hands. you can’t, even though there's more than room — there’s a damned cavern inside him. he’ll have to fill the space with something, someone, anything else. ]
Those are pretty words. [ but if nikolai truly felt differently, he would say what the demon holds over him instead of elegantly dodging that thread. he wouldn't insist on facing this alone. enough. kaz decides that wanting nikolai to be okay and wanting him can no longer coexist. they're oppositional impulses, telling him to hold firm and let go. ]
The price of your pride will be the nearest merchling’s head. [ and then nikolai’s heart in turn. there aren’t many houses near here, but he knows of enough. lotte’s boys play in the woods no matter how harshly she punishes them for it. ] Every time I slacken my grip, you escape. [ flashes of half-drowned desperation on the sand, promises made with taction in fjerda — pretty words. ] And you’re starving. What makes you think you have the control to hunt? My blood sent you into a frenzy yesterday, Lantsov. [ he slides a knife from his boot and guides it along the pulse in his exposed forearm, resting the point of blade at the crook of his elbow. kaz imagines gutting his arm and feeling fangs at his throat, a strange relief at the thought of this ending for one of them. ] Unless something has changed overnight.
[ if it has, he’ll gladly test nikolai’s resolve. there’s nothing like a high stakes gamble to keep the pain at bay. adjusting his grip on the handle, his thumb pushes down enough for the knife to make a divot in his soft flesh, skin not yet broken. the odds aren’t terrible, with dimitri likely already moving at the sound of his ricocheting heart. nikolai may yet fold. he still cares for kaz — like a child cares for a beloved and broken toy, unwilling to part with the ragged thing even when it no longer functions as intended. ]
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[ but he can see that it's already gotten into kaz's head, needled its way underneath his skin. the monster is me and i am the monster. are they not one and the same? he pushes away that truth, too raw to face. kaz's logic is no better, another burr in his side, another wall enclosing his prison. he doesn't want to kill. knows kaz will hold good on his promise. in the dim lamplight, he catches a glint of a blade, eyes tracking kaz's gloved hand as he brings the knife to his arm, passing over his tattoo. nikolai's throat bobs as he leans forward against his will, and when the tip of the blade pushes down just so into his soft skin, he shoots forward, his newly shortened chains stopping him short of kaz's chair. ]
Stop. Kaz — please. [ a hoarse, panicked demand, flickers of darkness fracturing his skin, but his eyes remain a steady, desperate green. he imagines kaz applying the slightest bit of pressure, the drip of blood forking down his skin, the hot rush of it on his tongue. tries to banish the thought, but the taste won't leave his mouth, his ragged breath tapering off into a whimper, hands digging into the ground. he feels the give of flesh beneath his fingers instead, a flood of red staining his hand. ] Stop. Don't bleed anymore for me. I've already — I've taken enough from you.
[ the chains creak, his gaze falling to kaz's leg, regret slicing into him at the sight. he doesn't have the control to hunt. barely has the control to share this room with him. a rasping breath shudders out of him, trying to pull closer as the shackle digs into his throat with bruising force. kaz sits just out of reach, maddeningly close and a world away at once, his hurt schooled away to anyone else, but nikolai can see the cracks in his tidy mask, cracks that he put there, cracks he keeps making worse. if only he could touch him. he's forced to pull back in order to draw in air, gaze dropping to the floor. ]
What will you do, then? [ shame gnaws at him, an incandescent tremor in his fingers as they sink further into the dirt. he looks up, his eyes sharp with wretched fury. ] Drop a wild boar in front of me and watch me eat like I'm a fucking dog? Perhaps you're curious to see what Zoya saw the moment she decided I was unfit to remain at her side. Then maybe you'll finally learn not to stay when you should go.
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he holds the knife in place for a moment, expression hinting at pensive. kaz, not brekker. please, something nikolai has only ever asked in intimate moments. the injury nikolai gives himself accelerates his next move. a sharp inhale. he makes a show of lifting the knife, then, grisha steel stark against his black grip. every cell vibrates with the need to reach nikolai, but he holds firm. this is a job now. he ought to treat it as such. ]
You forget who I am. [ if he ever knew, working with the brekker that’s an ally, on good behavior for the crown. he’s not the dragon queen, fierce but good in her heart, with a need to maintain appearances and win the love of a divided people. kaz brekker has taken his enemies apart piece by piece. blood has never made him squeamish.
setting his book aside, kaz stands and tucks his knife back into his boot. ]
I’m going to come closer, and you’re not going to bite me. Because you don’t want to hurt me. [ a fundamental sweetness that he lacks, all the more reason nikolai needs someone else, once the hard work is done. ] Or because we’ll both end up unconscious again. Either suits. [ a loud, razored critique, meant for dimitri to hear where he’s hovering by the door. he edges close enough to seize nikolai’s arm, leathered grip sliding down to raise his bloodied wrist. strands of dark hair slip free again as he tilts his head, assessing the wound.
with his free hand, he shakes out his emerald pocket square and applies it to nikolai’s palm, staunching the bleeding. ends up holding nikolai’s injured hand hostage between his gloves. his voice quiets, these words for nikolai alone. ] It’s your choice. [ the defiant set of kaz’s jaw softens, lips pressing together. that’s all the dignity and agency he can spare in these turbulent circumstances. ] I can go, and one of my crows can leave you food, like a prisoner. [ faintly amused. it’s a step above dog, isn’t it? ] But I’d like to see you. [ because however much nikolai is ashamed of the demon or at war with it, it’s him. kaz drags his thumb along the edge of the shackle, unable to soothe his reddened skin but wanting to very badly. old-new habits that will have nowhere to go, when this job ends. ] To understand. Will you let me?
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the knife disappears, and then suddenly kaz is coming closer. nikolai fights the urge to skitter back, but kaz's grip on his arm holds firm, and he's not itching for dimitri to plummet his pulse again. his eyes dart away when kaz handles his injuries. he's too close. from here he can see the shadows pressed beneath his eyes, exhaustion sunken into his skin. how many times has nikolai reached up and tucked back the soft strands of his dark hair? he's close enough now that he could again. he could trace the sharp cut of his cheekbones, soothe the tension in his brow, warm his no doubt cold skin from the damp of the cellar or the stress of his own demons. his chains clink, and he reaches out quickly with his free hand to draw them tight, lest they brush against kaz's injured leg.
his gaze flickers up. after all the times he's shifted between man and monster, all traces of genya's tailoring has faded, his face wholly his own again, regal and elegant despite smudges of blood and dirt, the soft spray of familiar freckles across his slightly crooked nose. kaz extends what feels like an olive branch, the unexpected decency grating against his tattered pride. he lowers his head until his forehead touches kaz's knee, gritting his teeth. ]
I can't remember it. When it feeds. [ only the bloodlust of before, all consuming, and then the mess that comes after. ] I can remember sensations. The taste of blood. Flesh in my teeth. And then when I wake, the hunger is gone and the beast is sated and I'm — [ his hand curls into kaz's, a motion that comes without thinking. moments pass before he even realizes he's holding his hand. he lifts his head, trying to gather the scraps of his composure. ] Fine. Because I need to know what it's doing. Because if anyone has to see me then I want it to be you.
[ slowly, he uncurls his hand, pulling it from his grasp. means to move away, but can't, his gaze hovering on the bandages peeking through his torn trousers. now that kaz has come close he knows there are only moments before they part again, a space that will keep widening until it feels too big to cross. his fingers brush gently over the side of his thigh, feather light, to feel his bandages. the demon stirs at the touch. ]
I haven't forgotten who you are. [ a tragedy in itself. he never will. he wants to press his hand closer, higher, to places comforting and familiar, but he blinks and blood pools over the chair, dripping onto the floor, kaz split open like fruit rotting in the sun. blinks again and nothing has changed at all, kaz's steady gaze staring back at him. he withdraws his hand, his voice low. ] I know you better than all of them. I know that you want to close yourself off because of what you're feeling right now, that maybe you want to go hurt someone — or yourself, or me — but whatever you do, you cannot move backwards. Not after everything. [ that would hurt more than losing him. ] There's only ever forward.
[ he turns away, drawing in a steadying breath. ] Your plan, then. Before I change my mind.
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every time nikolai looks at him — with his own face, his starry eyes and constellated freckles — his heart clenches. kaz has learned to anticipate that jolt in an effort to prevent any ripples from showing on his face, but this moment bruises his resolve. the tentative way nikolai moves is different from the man who patched him up (only to undo him weeks later). ultimately, the gap in nikolai’s memory is both curious and simple. the mind often rejects what it cannot handle, but surely this is more than that. a descent into the subterranean place where the monster normally lies. because if anyone has to see me then i want it to be you. why? because you don’t fear the dark or the depths, even when you should. because you’re the same as much as you’re different. because you know how to navigate perilous waters. it's the exchange he longs for, something alarmingly close to affection bubbling just below the surface. nikolai bending into him makes it harder to deny. kaz imagines fitting a hand at the nape of his neck to hold him there. ]
[ with a crisp nod, ] I’ll tell you all I see. [ he flexes his hand, empty but for the bloodied fabric, and pockets the fabric, uncaring of the mess. ] The deal is the deal.
[ when nikolai’s fingers ghosts up his thigh, kaz tenses, unsure whether harm or help will follow. the gauze is a flimsy cover for the smoking merzost, which he’d rather not irritate, but that's not what concerns him really. i know you straightens the curve of his spine. hadn’t he said the same thing — and meant it? this truth is its natural pair: he knows you. at least the parts that have been lured into the light by his precious stones. not all of him, not yet, though that might have come in time. still too much to excise all the places he touched.
with nikolai’s next words, his thoughts crack and scatter, splintered as the shadows that break nikolai’s skin. again, kaz confronts the permanence of what they’d done to each other. he knows you. that’s why this is so painful, searing when he ought to feel nothing — where he might have, if he hadn’t walked himself down the plank and into the harbour. he blinks out of that place and finds himself balanced on the lip of equally troubled seas. there’s only ever forward.
the idea of nikolai ordering him around is as infuriating as him being right. kaz draws an uneven breath. ]
After everything. [ he repeats, eyes glinting like a blade in the light. maybe you want to hurt someone. fine. ] After a few good fucks. [ metered out slowly, the taste of the words coppery in his mouth. in kaz’s estimation, nobody hurts nikolai quite as well as nikolai himself. kaz pauses long enough to see if the shot hits the mark before turning on his heel. all light-fingered flourishes, he lifts his cane and coat as he passes the chair. a bobble in his step. his leg hurts more than it has in years. can't be helped until the demon is leashed. ] I’ll be back in time for dinner.
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you haven't earned it. there's no reason now for kaz to treat him with kindness, not after the things he's said and done. not with the stench of blood hanging fresh in the air. it couldn't be a more perfect punishment — forced to reveal all the shameful, wounded parts of himself that he tries so hard to hide, the things impossible to smile through, private hauntings he shares with no one. every day he dreams that he's past this, that he'll wake without this familiar malaise gnawing at him, and every day his fervent desire is not enough. it feels like a spreading infection. he can't bear the thought of kaz seeing him in his lowest state, his mind so fractured that he can't even hold onto the present.
their eyes meet, kaz's stony rasp parroting his own words back at him. nothing more. nikolai refuses to flinch, but it doesn't matter, because he isn't quick enough to hide the flash of regret in his eyes. no part of him wants to lash out in return. kaz tucks away everything he says in private spaces inside of himself, the good and the terrible alike, hidden away to pull out when the moment serves him. he can't risk giving him more weight to carry when he's hardly thinking straight. ]
Upstairs, in the bedroom trunk. Look in my coat pocket. [ the kaleidoscope, freshly repaired, carved with rocking waves. kaz had acted peculiar every time he touched the thing, like he was attempting to thieve his own gift back. nikolai turns away, slinking across the floor to the darkened corner. his hands are beginning to shake from hunger, and he knows soon the monster will take him. if kaz stays he'll be reduced to begging. better for him to go, so he can hold on to the delusion of his pride for a little while longer. ] There's something there for you.
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in the sitting room, he settles into an armchair with a huffed exhale. the pain in his leg is worse than his shoulder, an eerie doubling of past and present. there’s a sheen of dust over everything that suggests nikolai never allowed himself the meagre comforts of this place. why would he? when he rarely allows himself comfort of any kind. rubbing his temples, kaz ignores dimitri asking after his well-being with a curt order, sending him to search the bedroom and fetch whatever nikolai has left him. scraps of paper, no doubt. strange drawings and half-rambles. perhaps something dead, as dogs do. he imagines that even if he were accustomed to — whatever category their entanglement falls under, it still wouldn’t make much sense. the division of his team leaves him alone for precious moments, awaiting anika and rotty’s return with game. injured, but not dead. preferably from the land owned by that twat of mercher from east stave. requested long before nikolai gave him permission to walk this path. some things are inevitable.
when dimitri offers him the kaleidoscope, fixed and altered, kaz accepts it gingerly, forcing his features to remain blank. he made this for you. an item without any practical function. he fixed it for you. without question. shame burns up his lungs, every breath aching.
open your hand, he says, hushed but sure, instructive the way kaz brekker can only be with his crew. he gentles the kaleidoscope into dimitri’s open palm without touching it, gloves protecting his skin. keep this safe. a nod and he resumes his position guarding the cellar. kaz lingers at the door. after a pause, he tidies his rolled sleeves. a tap of his cane calls all eyes to him before he tucks it under his arm and accepts a lantern from anika. in and out, rotty. no matter what you hear, you stay where you are.
it’s a slow descent into the cellar, body sore from his fall and leg smarting far more acutely on the uneven stone. how had he weathered the tear in his shoulder for so long? the gash in his hand, pain in every movement? (he knows how. the same way he managed to carry inej without buckling.) rotty grunts behind him, a young stag struggling in his arms. it’s not injured, but it is bloody — antlers crimson from shedding, tissue hanging off the bone. no more macabre than either of them, he supposes. ]
I broke it not long after I left. [ called out to nikolai wherever he hides in darkness. a relief. better that only dimitri knows who they keep in chains. loyalty's a tough habit to break. ] On the ship. [ at the foot of the stairs, his weight shifts from the bad leg to the good. once rotty lowers the animal, he turns and takes the steps back two at a time (but not before levelling an uneasy look at kaz, something frightened in his big eyes). their business keeps them away from the strangest things in ketterdam, or so he has always thought. a jerk of his head (out), and kaz continues undeterred. the stag stumbles to its feet. ] I was careless with it. [ with you, he means and yet can’t bring himself to say. nikolai apologises when he does wrong, bravery in the face of his mounting sins, but kaz — he swallows. ] It’s safe now.
[ being examined for clues in dimitri’s shaky hands, surely. he hopes that the care being taken communicates what he can’t say aloud, not now. the door closes behind him. a harsh thud and snick tell of the deadbolt securing it before the dregs bought this place, it was used to smuggle people into the city. a prison ready-made for nikolai’s use, though it was never intended for him.
kaz haunts the edges of the room, removing the flame from his lantern to light a few candles along the wall on one side. it takes him longer than it ought to double-back and do the same on the other. ]
You should know that there was a boy who helped Pekka Rollins kill my brother and I. [ the stag keeps by the stairs, away from the shadows, although the rope looped around its neck drags and pools on the hard floor. kaz leans against the stone wall, exhaling under the flickering light diagonal from nikolai. ] He said his name was Filip, and he sold wind-up dogs that caught every canal rat’s eye. The sort of thing only someone with a family could afford. [ can’t risk closing his eyes in the demon’s house. he pushes off the wall to limp onward and light the last two points out of nikolai’s clawed reach. ] When I came back, [ from the harbour, from the dead. ] I found him running a monte game on the Kelstraat. It was easy to expose him to his marks. [ he crosses to rejoin the stag, gloved hand soothing its back. ] And easier to let them hurt him, but it didn’t feel like enough. [ a beat. ] So I tortured him for two days. [ and it wasn't enough. he bends to lift the rope, looping it around his arm and then tossing the bundle within nikolai’s grasp. ] Then I shoved a wind-up key down his throat until he bled inside and out. Almost enough. For a start.
[ on the long con that led him to rollins and nikolai both. it hardly matters now, as he steps back and rests both hands on his cane. whatever animalistic brutality nikolai harbours inside him, it's no worse than the intentional, human cruelty kaz honed to become ketterdam's shadow. ]
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then, kaz's voice. eyes already blackened dart toward the sound, toward blood and multiple heartbeats. nikolai wants to call back even as he feels teeth crowd his mouth, nothing but a low growl in his throat. broke what? the kaleidoscope, hidden in his pocket. kaz must have found it. why is he explaining such a thing? if he could think properly he could glean the meaning behind his words. kaz isn't like him; he rarely speaks just to hear his own voice. think. he was careless with it but it's safe now. could he be talking about him? he wants to answer, would do anything for speech to return to his tongue, but maybe it's all the better that it doesn't, because he would tell him what he's known since the very first time he woke miles away from the palace, covered in blood and bruises, a harrowing gap in his memories. there are no safe places anymore.
kaz's story runs through his head as if coming from a faraway place. the rope thuds mere feet away, and the monster springs forward, clawed hands yanking so hard the stag's neck twists at an unnatural angle, dragging across the floor into the darkness, bloodied antlers scraping against stone. not quite dead. it kicks and fights as nikolai descends upon it, splitting it open chest to belly. a mangled cry fills the space.
i tortured him for two days. nikolai doesn't imagine the crime. instead what comes to mind is the sort of hurt kaz must have felt to be compelled do such a thing, to think that that would somehow heal the wound inside of him. of course it hadn't. it couldn't have. those sorts of things never do. but there couldn't have been anyone to tell him that, either. there was only ever the white-hot fuel of his rage and grief, at least until he'd met his close companions. after that what had been left? the loneliness of never being able to draw close to them? nikolai has often wondered what would have become of kaz brekker if they hadn't divested each other of their secrets. surely someone else would have found a way to open him up. wouldn't they? but what would have become of you? no one but kaz could have found the heart.
something skids across the floor to land at kaz's feet, a trail of blood in its wake. the stag's heart, twitching with its last bit of life. nikolai's teeth sink into the stag's throat, tearing through flesh and bone. it makes no sound now, blood soaking the ground, hungry snarls from deep within the monster's throat as it crunches through bone and muscle. nikolai catches only flashes, as if he's being held underwater. hard to distinguish between the taste of human or animal, blood filling his mouth. is it happening again? can't be. kaz wouldn't let it. kaz promised he'd kill him first. but what if he can't do it? what if for all the stories kaz tells him to try to convince him that he's terrible instead of hurting, he still hesitates when it's nikolai?
the stag is reduced to hide and bones and bloodied antlers. the monster picks at the carcass until it's clean, leaving it in a strangely tidy heap before turning away, the candles lining the walls trembling as his shadowy wings flutter. they soon settle, slowly shrinking and then dissipating altogether. inky waves of black sea carry nikolai to shore, consciousness swarming back to him. he buckles, gagging, something sharp in his mouth. dragging himself back to the darkened corner, he fishes out two slim bones hidden beside his teeth, the reason immediately apparent. for lockpicking. he wants to cast them aside but wedges them beneath a stone instead. all he can manage for how badly he's shaking, his skin chilled as if he's been left all night in the snow.
blood fills his mouth, trails down his throat, soaks his clothes. he shuts his eyes, his breath short, his fingers digging into the shackle around his throat, but the tremors and the slick blood keep him from gaining a solid grip. panic claws at him, but he forces himself to calm. zoya will come for him. she always does. she won't because she sent you away. a quiet sound lodges in his throat, but he refuses to let it pass any further. remember who you are. he tries to stop the tremors, but they don't subside, his chains rattling in the dark. cold skitters across his skin. you've braved worse than this. but he hasn't. this is the worst, the waking and not remembering, the feel of the monster coiling like a sleeping serpent inside of him, not knowing when it will wake again.
kaz will come if you ask. but he can't make himself form the words. maybe because he can't yet speak. maybe because he's not sure, after everything, that he really will. ]
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nikolai drops and, without thought or intent, kaz moves toward him. unspeakable violence collapses inward, the way it always does. hitching breaths and rattling chains fill the room. in aching moments, kaz drapes his coat across nikolai's shoulders. a gift from inej’s travels, given over to ruination. he doesn’t think about that. all he can think of is nikolai, bloodied and shaking. for so many years, kaz has lingered in doorways, unable to cross the threshold into intimacy, every touch imbued with terror. but because of the irreversible happenings between them — kaz lowers himself to sit behind nikolai, hissing at the pain in his leg. after prying those desperate hands from his throat, kaz wraps his arms around him. with the coat as armour, it’s easier to weather the plague’s spectre, tremors and chills threatening them both. after what nikolai showed him — his most vulnerable, shameful parts — it’s hardly an adequate repayment.
nosing into nikolai’s bloodied hair, his mouth brushes above the shackle at his neck. the deer’s abrupt, violent near-end flashes before him, neck bent unnaturally. ]
Breathe, Nikolai. [ leather fingers test the give of the shackle against nikolai’s surely bruised neck. enough. blood slicks his glove, but he could open this lock underwater. a click, and he slips it off. ] I have you. [ wherever nikolai is, subsumed by the demon or protected by his vital systems. sometimes, we forget what we can’t manage. the mind’s coping mechanism cannibalises its primary functions. ] You killed the stag, and I watched you, Nikolai. Just like we agreed. [ the rough burr of his voice is as steady as it’s ever been. ] That’s all.
[ nikolai nikolai nikolai. you can’t keep him just by saying his name. not here, not like this.
there’s something he wants to say, lodged in his throat. an explanation, a promise. an unsayable thing. he can choke down his wanting for nikolai to be anything but this. safe. fed. if kaz could bring himself to let go, he would remove the remaining fetters and carry nikolai back into the light. hard not to yearn to give him the comforts he refuses to take for himself. a warm bath, a clean bed, closeness. maybe nikolai will allow such things from someone else, with a greater capacity for — the thing kaz can’t bring himself to think, because it can’t be unthought, and it has nowhere to go. all his attempts at comforting nikolai have ended in exile, and this will be no different. ]
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slowly, his eyes open. kaz's cold nose has warmed against the back of his neck, his arms steady around him as his tremors lessen. you killed the stag. nothing more. kaz wouldn't let anything worse happen, knows he wouldn't be able to bear it. his breath shivers as he exhales. opens his mouth and tries for words. wants to cry with relief when he finds that language has returned to him. ]
It's not a threat anymore. [ not now. only became one because nikolai deprived it of something essential. his failure sits like a stone in the pit of his stomach. what now? the same as always. try again. find a way. his eyes slip shut as he leans back into the circle of kaz's arms — not purposeful. the strength goes out of him, the weight of exhaustion hitting him all at once. his hand grasps weakly at kaz's leather-clad knuckles, mumbling quietly before he slips off into the dark. ] You were a child, Brekker. No one ever taught you what to do with your sorrow. Stop trying to convince me that you're evil.