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.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.