[ the first-aid kit genya provided exceeds milena’s now-nightly healing efforts, the salve lingering after to relieve kaz's pain considerably. a hissed breath rushes out as the numbness spreads. oh. easy to forget what it feels like to be without pain until someone reminds you.
no time to dwell on the light feeling. predictably, he’s said the wrong thing, kindness made harmful in his incapable hands. the sound nikolai makes (not a laugh, not a cry) unnerves him. the nikolai that meets his gaze now is shattered — it’s taking everything else as haunting as anything the demon could say — but kaz looks back without faltering, tracking the near-tears on nikolai’s lashes. a new thought, sudden in its clarity: if you can force it to let you die, you can force it to let you live.
when their aching stare breaks, protests fill his mind. can’t leave ketterdam until the work is done, and the work will never be done, at this rate. he has a meeting tomorrow afternoon he can’t miss, he needs to write inej about their progress and setbacks — wait. he forces his thoughts to slow. nikolai has changed keys into a pained register, one he rarely allows to be heard. if he could just kiss him, hold him — do something instead of having to say the right thing — ]
Whatever could have unbalanced me. [ rhetorical, thanks. kaz tugs a glove onto his unhurt hand and cups nikolai’s bent neck. ] Alright, Nikolai. [ alright i’ll go or you’re alright, melded with a softer brusqueness than usual. it's uncharacteristic agreement, which should hint at a catch. he slides his hand higher into nikolai’s hair, not steering him anywhere, just soothing. could be wrapping his palm instead of this (sparking a feeling with nowhere to go), but his entire body aches. nikolai will take care of it, besides. nikolai wants to take care of it. (of you.) ]
I’m not one for ascribed places, having none. [ not the way nikolai speaks of, in terms of roles and rightness belonging and deservedness. his mouth quirks faintly. even now, nikolai thinks like a soldier and a royal. ] But there is a space. [ a beat. you hold the most vital pieces of my heart. kaz gently untangles a knotted lock of hair, hand steadying even as the tirenedess persists. ] One that only exists because of you. [ carved out by choice, not destiny or necessity. ] And it will always exist for you, even when you curse me for it. [ a likely scenario, given how every confession seems to be wrapped in a reminder that nikolai cannot see a way forward — at least not with kaz brekker. ] I do love you. [ his grip on nikolai tightens and then loosens. ] Badly, I know, but I do. [ without the practice or skill to make it intelligible. wryly, ] Who else would tell a queen her duty and people can wait, but a canal rat can’t? [ in a spectacularly selfish and romantic gesture. he takes a deep breath. ]
We’ll feed your lodger again before we go. [ the catch, issued without remorse. there can be no repeat of their past mistakes on this journey, with news of nikolai’s condition known across the continent. better to use the facilities they have and safeguard against trouble on the open water or endless snow. ]
[ a part of him chafes against this uncharacteristic softness, that he's weak enough to require such attention, but a bigger part of him can't help but welcome it when he thinks of how long it took to coax these quiet confessions out of kaz. the hand in his hair sends an ache through him, his words curling around his heart. a space just for him, when nikolai has only kept him in dreams, in the words unspoken that hang heavy between them, never daring to hope beyond the moments he can snatch away in the present. ]
I can feed the beast on my own. [ kaz will never go for it, but it stands to be said, paired with a disgruntled sigh.
still, now, pressure lodges in his throat. he gravitates closer, starved for kaz's touch after going so long without it — shame, there, that he can't handle the absence of something kaz endured a lifetime without. his ribs covered, he reaches for his hand, spreading kaz's fingers open across his palm to tilt his split skin into the lamp's glow, unable to look elsewhere. ]
I want to say it. [ kaz has shown more fortitude than he has tonight, even bloodied and facing the deep. the least he can do is explain, after all the secrets kaz has willingly handed him. a grief he's kept contained for years threatens to shake loose, and with it his instinct to simply look the other way, to say something else, to feel anything but this.
his gloved thumb sweeps to the edge of the gash at kaz's palm. ] I've felt it more than I can say. Earlier than you likely imagined. It's been on the tip of my tongue dozens of times I've looked at you. But I — I can’t — [ another hitch, another breath he can't seem to catch. he plunges forward, his haunted, desperate gaze falling to kaz like a shadow. ] I feel death looming over us now. Don’t you? That’s what happens when I love a thing, Brekker. I can endure losses of any other kind, but I cannot survive losing you.
[ he expels a breath, wrapping a length of fabric around kaz’s palm, ignoring the tremor in his fingers as he works. ] I told you of him, that night on the ship. Had to have been drunk. I don’t even like to speak his name aloud. But what I felt for him, I feel for you. More, even, because I was so young back then. But the carnage that came for the two of us that day… it’s chased me all the way here, and now there’s us, and it’s — [ he knots the bandages but doesn’t release kaz’s hand, holding it in his bloodied gloves, lost in the violence of his war-torn memories. he’s seen hordes of deaths since then, but nothing like that, nothing like dominik bleeding out in his arms, his heart breaking in a place that can never be mended. how many times has he closed his eyes and seen kaz’s broken, lifeless body, death following him like a ghost?
he cradles his bandaged hand to his swiftly beating heart, his gaze wild and desperate when he looks at kaz again, like he’s drowning once more. ] Can’t you feel it? It’s all around us. Every time I touch you. Say that you feel it too. Tell me my sanity isn’t going with everything else.
[ from the way nikolai sighs, kaz can tell that they’ve settled into an uneasy agreement. yes, nikolai could attempt to feed the demon on his own, but he won’t, lacking the confidence required to steer his jagged limbs. this may be kaz’s only chance to converse with nikolai’s shadow — a plot that he sets aside for the moment. it takes all his concentration to even his breathes, besides, as nikolai finishes wrapping his scrapes. can’t tell if his hands or nikolai’s are trembling. regardless, his heartbeat hammers an erratic rhythm. that nikolai still extends tenderness to his inconsequential hurts (or that he himself allows them) is no small thing.
in return, kaz listens with rapt attention, gloved hand soothing at the nape of nikolai’s neck until a question finally glances off his razored jaw, which tilts down to evade the light in nikolai’s eyes. i feel death looming over us now. don’t you? a sensation so prevalent even a seasoned liar wouldn’t dare deny it. nikolai plucks thoughts from the vault at the back of his mind and mirrors them.
can't you, say it, tell me. a litany that begs for action. kaz lifts his head. stay afloat. he smoothes his leather grip to cradle nikolai’s face, but allows his bandaged hand remain in place, kept safe in bloodied gloves, over a wounded heart. ]
[ after the fight and subsequent silence, his voice is an abrasion. a whisper, meant for two alone. ] You know I do. [ the dead infiltrate his perception. nikolai once observed it’s not just something that afflicts him when they touch; it’s always. ] For once, [ not quite teasing, but hinting at it. ] you’re not the exception. [ because nikolai is exceptional to him. there’s no one else he would drown for repeatedly — no, nightly. ] Everyone feels this way. [ it’s a flaw so reliable that kaz has exploited it with frightful success. he tips his head from one side to the other, considering. a small frown. ] Most not as deeply as you. [ masked or otherwise, it’s always been obvious to kaz that nikolai’s emotions are too big for his restricted role. with outsized passion for his country, for his people, for progress — and for you — of course the resulting pain is too much. ]
If you love a thing, you fear its loss. [ impossible to keep nikolai’s descent from plaguing his vision, lashes fluttering. ] Two sides, one coin. [ his thumb arcs over the apple of nikolai’s cheek.] Whether you’re with me or not, it won’t stop. [ no matter distance traversed or walls erected, you can’t rid yourself of either feeling. nothing has cured him of his affection for nikolai. even with the tide rolling in, thoughts of kissing him soundly — holding him — pressing close — persist. ] There's no protecting you from it. [ hadn't he tried? when there was still time, or at least when it seemed like there was. earlier than you likely imagined. his pulse skips. ] But you needn’t face it alone. [ gently, he curls his other hand around nikolai’s. ]
[ it's unbearable, this closeness paired with the distance that still remains between them. he's never wanted kaz in his arms more than in this moment, never needed the reassurance of his quiet breath or the sensation of his frigid skin warming beneath his mouth. between the blood sweeping through his thoughts and the red staining his hands, he craves the touch of his bare skin to anchor himself in something alive. he wants to ask him to stay, to stay this night and the next, his duties to ketterdam be damned. would it be such a bad thing? yes. one look at kaz, more corpse than boy right now, gives him his answer.
he tilts his cheek into kaz’s palm, desperate for the meager warmth he imagines bleeding through the leather of his gloves. you needn’t face it alone, a promise he wants to grasp and hold tight to his heart, but they’ve had too many nights apart already and too many ahead, a gaping, lonely emptiness awaiting him when this night ends. his eyes shutter, turning so his mouth brushes lightly over the tip of kaz’s gloved finger. after all the work they’d done to coax them off and he’s the reason kaz wears them again now, no excuse but his own selfish need to be touched. ]
But I do. [ need to face it alone. he draws in a steadying breath, finding the tattered edges of his composure and settling it around him like a familiar mantle, patched up again and again with brand new fraying threads. he wants desperately to take this comfort from kaz, to let himself be weak and hollow if only for a few moments more, but the scent of blood hangs too strongly in the air, reality pushing against him on all sides. he opens his eyes, his features carefully schooled back into casual dignity. ] The monster has me in a place where I can’t reach you, and you certainly shouldn’t be reaching for me.
[ an argument weakened, perhaps, by the way he grips kaz’s hand even tighter as he says it, as if it will pain him to let go, as if he hopes kaz can hear the things left unsaid. impossible to know if he even can, brilliant deduction skills hindered by lack of experience in matters of the heart. if you love a thing, you fear its loss. perhaps true, but unacceptable — or at least something he’d rather largely ignore. he doesn’t have to give voice to how his fear is eating him alive. ]
If you love a thing, the work is never done. [ a mild correction. maybe one kaz will bristle beneath, but it’s a truth nikolai has lived by his entire life. he helps kaz to his feet when he stands, bearing the weight of his bad leg and holding him steady as the boat rocks beneath them at the movement. with a flash of a smile, he sweeps a fur blanket around kaz’s shoulders before they cross to the other side to the waiting bed of blankets and cushions that nikolai lowers kaz to without asking, propping an overstuffed pillow beneath his leg. he scurries back to fetch the lamp, setting it close to warm them, and then perches on one of the storage trunks bracketing the small space, the bottle of brandy dangling loosely in one hand and the tea in the other. he wants badly to slide down beside him, enough clothing and soft furs to separate them, but he hesitates nonetheless, watching the moonlight cast colorless shadows along kaz’s sharp angles.
he swings his gaze upward to catch sight of the stars instead, something else to focus on, but kaz’s presence is like a magnetic force that brings him to his knees, sliding close so he can tilt his chin upward to follow the path of his eyes. this is the thing he wanted all along, and it feels wrong and right at once, kaz’s blue eyes catching the light, his lashes dark and cheeks pale. nikolai’s mouth doesn’t brush his ear when he speaks, his voice low, but he imagines that it does, imagines his lips dragging along the cut of his jaw, licking at his pulse, feeling the steady — or unsteady — cadence of life beneath his skin. he swallows and looks up again instead, brandy and tea both forgotten on the slate trunk tops. ]
That’s the raven. [ he points to a faint, boxy constellation to the far left. ] I’ve heard any number of stories about each one, a different one at each new city, but it so happens that a god asked this sacred raven to watch over his pregnant lover. The lover went off and fell in love with another man, and the god’s wrath toward the raven was so great that he scorched its wings and left them blackened as punishment. [ he fusses with a corner of the blanket, smoothing his hand down kaz’s side and stopping when he feels the bandage beneath the soft fur. a lonely, jarring reminder to let go. he leans back on his hands and smiles, achingly sweet. ] I always liked the mariner’s compass best, though. You can’t see it tonight, but — maybe in Fjerda. If we’re lucky and the new queen and king don’t throw me in prison for a laugh.
[ when nikolai rejects his offer of assistance, companionship, love; a series of complicated expressions plays across his face. brick by brick, kaz brekker rebuilds his composure. the slash of his brows cuts low, mouth taut, and his gaze lowers to their layered grip. it’s all he can do not to bite the hand still extended.
hard to parse what nikolai means by correcting him. what work remains? hasn’t kaz spent months sanding down his edges and opening his throat? all for someone who would rather drown than have you. kaz pulls his hand from nikolai’s before he stands, instead fumbling over the first buttons if his shirt, made of material finer (and bluer) than he’d ever pick for himself, silky against the skin. if he didn’t think nikolai might disappear, he’d slip beneath the deck like the shadow he is. unfortunately, even this latest humiliation isn’t enough to supplant that fear. although he manages to stand on his own, nikolai swiftly provides the help he wouldn’t ask for.
every gesture of care must be so small to nikolai, having been loved and loved in turn. kaz scrubs a hand over his face to stop it from crumpling, a burgeoning wetness rubbed from his eyes. a blanket heavy enough to slow his shakes, wrapped around his shoulders. a pillow slid beneath his leg where it most hurts. no one has ever cared for him like this. he’s never let them.
with good reason. it’s ruinous. there’s nothing more painful than being confronted with the very thing he sacrificed to get what he wanted — what he thought he wanted. it’s as if nikolai dragged a subterranean, hellish creature into the sun. maybe he did. it burns just the same. worse, the raking light will pass, leaving him scorched in the dark.
the occasional shudder overtakes him, limbs refusing to still after revisiting his waterlogged nightmares in the flesh. even once the distance between them clears his head, he has no counter. no matter how much nikolai claims to feel, it’s not enough. not to name the feeling outright, let alone act on it. with a sigh, he rolls the tension from his shoulders as he looks up without seeing. if only he could go away inside and say nothing, or return to his room atop the slat that no one dare enter uninvited. but nikolai is here, not there. close enough that if kaz turned his head, he’d need only tip it to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck. tempting in the firelight. and unwanted.
he thought that playing the bastard would dull the ache, at least, no satisfaction quite like the collapse of bone beneath his balled fist. it hadn’t. nor had the attentions of others, endured to suit his strategy and curiosity both. the moment nikolai called him back, he came limping to his door. pathetic — and unchanged. when nikolai speaks, kaz listens, eyes flitting sideways to sneak a glimpse at his freckles before following the curve of his arm to the stars. as it happens, he knows little of constellations beyond basic navigation. since stories like this didn’t serve his aims, he never bothered to collect them. blackened wings conjure the demon, and he wonders about the mechanics of its shadowy limbs. hadn’t been able to see how they sprung forth in the dank cellar.
struck by an impulse, kaz reaches across nikolai’s back to drape the blanket across them both, clothed shoulders brushing before he straightens and busies himself with his buttons. maybe in fjerda, nikolai says, where they’re going. where he went to the ends of reality to save the man beside him. where nina zenik will look at him with those huge, knowing eyes of hers while she draws the merzost from his bones. ]
[ mildly, brows arching — ] You’re not the one who stole from them. [ something he hadn’t mentioned on their way out, given the circumstances of their parting. he stole from shu han, too, as he left his meeting with the princess, exhilarated that his legend had expanded its domain. and, of course, he took from ravka shortly thereafter. twice. the first time, he only thieved from the courtiers who attended his audience with the dragon queen (and bargained dimitri into his service). the second, he’d nicked books from the palace library and replaced an emerald embedded in a lantsov bust with a rather lovely rock. there’d been little else to do without nikolai’s company, after all.
hazarding another glance at nikolai, kaz’s heart scrambles into his throat. nikolai remains sun-drenched, as always, even in the moon-dark. his smile hurts just as much as every token of affection. if this is all kaz can give him, if this is all nikolai wants — he turns away and blows out an exhale. maybe the work isn’t yet done. ]
Fortunately, I’m rather talented at breaking in and out of Fjerdan prisons. [ a flat look. ] You’ll have to pay for my services, of course. [ tipping his head this way and that. ] But since I’ll be freeing myself, anyway, there’s an argument to be made for a lower rate.
[ if nikolai won’t help himself, kaz will convince the demon that their interests are aligned. it must want food, life, freedom. a lever is a lever. hadn’t it asked who marked him, too, when they last spoke? as if it mattered. as if any scar from a person could compare. ]
[ a wall goes up between them, erected in the face of his own inadequacy. he's a pendulum swinging back and forth, towards kaz and then away. inevitable that he'll return again — and swing away again, because he can't imagine a life without kaz haunting it. too many times he's come far too close to losing him, the sharp scent of blood and the shivers he can feel beneath the soft fabric of his clothes serving as grim reminders that death still hangs over them now, a ghost he hasn't been able to shake since his days at war. it's what he's owed, perhaps, for all the lives he's taken — lucid choices, decisions made of his own free will long before he had the demon to blame.
warm fur spills over his shoulders, magicked into place by kaz's clever hands. a surprising gesture, and one that makes him think of how few times they've been allowed to share an intimacy like this. tangled covers, the press of limbs, the shroud of night. nikolai mourns the sight of kaz's pale skin disappearing beneath his neat buttons, reaching for the flask of tea and swallowing down a sweetened mouthful, the soothing warmth spreading through his chest and reminding him of the ache of missing home. ]
There's hardly anything in Fjerda worth stealing. Maybe one of their tanks for tinkering with. [ their bloated military might had been both criminal and impressive at once, though serving as their target certainly diminished much of his awe. a flash of cold snow and hot blood skitters through his mind, a sour taste rushing to his tongue. he switches the tea for brandy, lounging back on the cushioned pile beneath them and carefully snaking out his free hand to idly circle kaz's bicep, his fingers tracing his tattoo from memory. ] Yes, stories of your foolhardy adventure to the Ice Court were much discussed at the palace, mostly by me, because I couldn't figure out how you did it. I suppose I was taken by you even earlier than I realized. [ he huffs out a laugh, gently squeezing his shoulder. ] Zoya wanted to have you shot for leading Nina astray.
[ her anger had been so comically palpable while nikolai's fascination had simply grown as each bit of the story unfolded, his eyes firmly on brekker without even knowing who he was or where this boy had even come from. his gaze strays to him now, his profile illuminated by the moonlight, dark hair a tousled mess from his haphazard toweling. nikolai reaches out with his stained gloves and gently tucks back a windblown lock, fingers curling around the shell of kaz's ear. who else gets to see him like this, the boy beneath the hardened lines and severe looks? nikolai will never tire of it. ]
I meant for you to find peace somewhere in the water. [ he wanted to somehow give him that, arrogant enough to believe that he could. still trying to be useful. kaz had so easily pegged him right, his foolish desires priced too high tonight. he can at least take him to fjerda, at least get him to zenik. and then what? their time is always running out. his fingers skate gently down the line of his throat, shifting to the nape of his neck. after a moment he's coaxing kaz back, drawing him in so he settles against his heartbeat, his dark hair tickling the edge of his jaw.
he allows him a moment to settle — or a moment to pull away, but he'll have to make a conscious choice to leave the circle of his arms, pulling the furs close around kaz. an apology of sorts, for making him dive into the depths to fetch him, or maybe just to warm him, to chase the dark waters from his head, to remind him that he's above the sea now, as safe as can be with a man of questionable control. warm breath soaks through kaz's hair when nikolai drops his lips to his crown. ] I've no right to ask you for anything, but — give me this one night with you. One night of rest. I don't want to go back, because then — you'll go. [ a shaky breath, his eyes shuttering. ] You don't like my neighborhood.
[ this can’t go on. he thinks it again and again as nikolai touches him places that no one else can. fingers searing the r that few find intelligible (if they’ve seen it at all), brushing his ear in lieu of pressing his pert mouth there. how is it fair that he can reach out and do what he likes, but when kaz reaches back — he cuts off the childish thought. this is the way it’s been from the start. better to tell himself that all nikolai claims to desire is dependent on convenience (comfort when at his lowest and loneliest) or his desperation to be useful (re-assembling his rattling pieces). one night, no more. the same thing he said in fjerda despite kaz’s protests. if nikolai were well, he never would have returned. when he becomes well again, thanks to a devil’s bargain, he’ll return to ravka and end this for good.
kaz fails to listen carefully to nikolai’s reply, lost in the touches given over like they’re nothing. they’re not nothing. they’re incapable of being categorised as such. every single one tugs him nearer, nikolai’s gloved hand as good as hooking into his neck, a different sort of shiver inching down his spine. there’s uncertainty, of course, leading him to fidget until he’s comfortable on nikolai’s firm chest. eventually, his heartbeat replaces the sounds of the waves, steady and alive.
if anyone else told him they wanted him to find peace in the water, he’d laugh. only in death. instead, his pulse flutters. ]
There’s no peace for someone like me. [ fearful and fearsome, a self-made monster. ] There’s only you. [ for want of entombing himself at nikolai’s throat, he turns his nose into his silken shoulder, breathing in the palace perfumes and seasalt. in embracing him, nikolai presses for an intimacy that leaves kaz questioning the rules of this engagement. is he allowed to touch? nikolai’s mouth warms his hair, but it seems different when he initiates taction now, like his wanting itself is corrosive. is this how nikolai had felt the first time they kissed, knowing that it might be the very thing to drown him? ]
I despise your neighbourhood. [ muffled, so kaz lifts up to settle one hand beside nikolai’s head, while his injured palm balances over his heart. the fur blanket slips down his back. his eyes are as wild as they are aching. ] But one night isn’t enough. I’ve left you too many times already. [ his mistakes as painful — worse, than nikolai’s, because he failed to use his cleverness to understand this person who matters above all else. fuck the crow club, the merchant council, and all of ketterdam. ] I’m staying tonight. Tomorrow. [ on the sofa, he anticipates, if nikolai makes a hat-trick of his rejections on this miserable night. ] Even if I don’t know how to be close to you and not want — to kiss you now. [ his elbows bend, lowering as if he might. ] You don't have to do anything. You don't have to say it. [ all of that seems irrelevant, when nikolai himself, whole and hale, is the goal. ] I’m staying.
[ because kaz brekker does whatever he wishes. and he wishes for nikolai to know that he’s wanted, even if that feeling isn’t returned. for him to be safe, even if nikolai would rather drown. it matters not if he hates kaz for his stubbornness in this. kaz already decided he was willing to pay any price to shelter him. ]
[ it's not what he's expecting to hear. every brainless comment, every clever deflection dies on his tongue in the face of the sudden offer to stay, words nikolai knows better than to ask for from a man weighed down with just as much duty and expectation as he is. it's like a starving man being tossed food for the first time — he hardly knows what to do with it and his first visceral instinct is to throw it away. he barely stops the no from slipping past his lips, sharply biting down on his tongue to center his thoughts. there's only so many times kaz can be presented with "no" before he produces a knife out of thin air and neatly slits his windpipe.
all he's wanted this whole time is for kaz to stay, and yet how can he? nikolai hasn't fed the monster since that harrowing night in the cellar — since kaz fed it for him — ignoring the sharp hunger pangs that have no doubt worsened his condition. but even now his grip on the beast is as secure as he can hope for. if they're to leave for fjerda soon, they can't have night after night of this. in the practical sense, he needs kaz to watch him, to know when he's himself and when he's not, to tell him how far he's really gone.
and in the less practical sense — his gloved hand moving gently through kaz's hair, tracing the line of his temple down to his cheek, his thumb touching his bottom lip, the unspoken desire hanging heavy in the air — he needs him. he needs his presence. being alone has been untenable, moving through his days like a ghost, sometimes nikolai and sometimes some other dark, gloomy thing clinging to him like a shroud and blocking out every bit of the light he struggles so valiantly to keep close. it's been so long since he's had no one, moving from prince to privateer to king, never taking a breath in between, always making sure to charm enough people along the way so that he'd never have to be alone. but kaz is different. kaz is not in his court or on his crew. nikolai can't make him stay by royal mandate. what is it that he's always saying? he has to want to come back, or people are not things, or — something that he should've, perhaps, paid more attention to. ]
Being with you, for me, was peace. [ a quiet whisper, barely audible above the beating of his heart. he'd press his thumb into kaz's mouth if his gloves weren't stained with his blood, giving his bottom lip one last, gentle swipe before trailing down his pale throat, following the thin rope of scar tissue with the tip of his finger. ] I wanted to be that for you, too. [ a safe place to land. it all went wrong, somehow, after starting so right. or maybe it was always wrong, the demon robbing him of all sense and reason from the start.
his palm settles briefly over kaz's heart, faint beneath the layers of fabric separating them (or because he nearly drowned him). how many people have heard this cadence? then his hand sweeps up again to cover kaz's eyes, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of his own knuckles. ]
So stay. I'll have you for as many nights as you'll give me. [ he presses his forehead to the back of his hand, closing his eyes and allowing their breaths to mingle. though he keeps his voice soft — and attempts to keep his tone light — the relief is palpable behind his words. ] If you would try and rest now — please — I'll bring you inside when we get to shore.
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no time to dwell on the light feeling. predictably, he’s said the wrong thing, kindness made harmful in his incapable hands. the sound nikolai makes (not a laugh, not a cry) unnerves him. the nikolai that meets his gaze now is shattered — it’s taking everything else as haunting as anything the demon could say — but kaz looks back without faltering, tracking the near-tears on nikolai’s lashes. a new thought, sudden in its clarity: if you can force it to let you die, you can force it to let you live.
when their aching stare breaks, protests fill his mind. can’t leave ketterdam until the work is done, and the work will never be done, at this rate. he has a meeting tomorrow afternoon he can’t miss, he needs to write inej about their progress and setbacks — wait. he forces his thoughts to slow. nikolai has changed keys into a pained register, one he rarely allows to be heard. if he could just kiss him, hold him — do something instead of having to say the right thing — ]
Whatever could have unbalanced me. [ rhetorical, thanks. kaz tugs a glove onto his unhurt hand and cups nikolai’s bent neck. ] Alright, Nikolai. [ alright i’ll go or you’re alright, melded with a softer brusqueness than usual. it's uncharacteristic agreement, which should hint at a catch. he slides his hand higher into nikolai’s hair, not steering him anywhere, just soothing. could be wrapping his palm instead of this (sparking a feeling with nowhere to go), but his entire body aches. nikolai will take care of it, besides. nikolai wants to take care of it. (of you.) ]
I’m not one for ascribed places, having none. [ not the way nikolai speaks of, in terms of roles and rightness belonging and deservedness. his mouth quirks faintly. even now, nikolai thinks like a soldier and a royal. ] But there is a space. [ a beat. you hold the most vital pieces of my heart. kaz gently untangles a knotted lock of hair, hand steadying even as the tirenedess persists. ] One that only exists because of you. [ carved out by choice, not destiny or necessity. ] And it will always exist for you, even when you curse me for it. [ a likely scenario, given how every confession seems to be wrapped in a reminder that nikolai cannot see a way forward — at least not with kaz brekker. ] I do love you. [ his grip on nikolai tightens and then loosens. ] Badly, I know, but I do. [ without the practice or skill to make it intelligible. wryly, ] Who else would tell a queen her duty and people can wait, but a canal rat can’t? [ in a spectacularly selfish and romantic gesture. he takes a deep breath. ]
We’ll feed your lodger again before we go. [ the catch, issued without remorse. there can be no repeat of their past mistakes on this journey, with news of nikolai’s condition known across the continent. better to use the facilities they have and safeguard against trouble on the open water or endless snow. ]
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I can feed the beast on my own. [ kaz will never go for it, but it stands to be said, paired with a disgruntled sigh.
still, now, pressure lodges in his throat. he gravitates closer, starved for kaz's touch after going so long without it — shame, there, that he can't handle the absence of something kaz endured a lifetime without. his ribs covered, he reaches for his hand, spreading kaz's fingers open across his palm to tilt his split skin into the lamp's glow, unable to look elsewhere. ]
I want to say it. [ kaz has shown more fortitude than he has tonight, even bloodied and facing the deep. the least he can do is explain, after all the secrets kaz has willingly handed him. a grief he's kept contained for years threatens to shake loose, and with it his instinct to simply look the other way, to say something else, to feel anything but this.
his gloved thumb sweeps to the edge of the gash at kaz's palm. ] I've felt it more than I can say. Earlier than you likely imagined. It's been on the tip of my tongue dozens of times I've looked at you. But I — I can’t — [ another hitch, another breath he can't seem to catch. he plunges forward, his haunted, desperate gaze falling to kaz like a shadow. ] I feel death looming over us now. Don’t you? That’s what happens when I love a thing, Brekker. I can endure losses of any other kind, but I cannot survive losing you.
[ he expels a breath, wrapping a length of fabric around kaz’s palm, ignoring the tremor in his fingers as he works. ] I told you of him, that night on the ship. Had to have been drunk. I don’t even like to speak his name aloud. But what I felt for him, I feel for you. More, even, because I was so young back then. But the carnage that came for the two of us that day… it’s chased me all the way here, and now there’s us, and it’s — [ he knots the bandages but doesn’t release kaz’s hand, holding it in his bloodied gloves, lost in the violence of his war-torn memories. he’s seen hordes of deaths since then, but nothing like that, nothing like dominik bleeding out in his arms, his heart breaking in a place that can never be mended. how many times has he closed his eyes and seen kaz’s broken, lifeless body, death following him like a ghost?
he cradles his bandaged hand to his swiftly beating heart, his gaze wild and desperate when he looks at kaz again, like he’s drowning once more. ] Can’t you feel it? It’s all around us. Every time I touch you. Say that you feel it too. Tell me my sanity isn’t going with everything else.
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in return, kaz listens with rapt attention, gloved hand soothing at the nape of nikolai’s neck until a question finally glances off his razored jaw, which tilts down to evade the light in nikolai’s eyes. i feel death looming over us now. don’t you? a sensation so prevalent even a seasoned liar wouldn’t dare deny it. nikolai plucks thoughts from the vault at the back of his mind and mirrors them.
can't you, say it, tell me. a litany that begs for action. kaz lifts his head. stay afloat. he smoothes his leather grip to cradle nikolai’s face, but allows his bandaged hand remain in place, kept safe in bloodied gloves, over a wounded heart. ]
[ after the fight and subsequent silence, his voice is an abrasion. a whisper, meant for two alone. ] You know I do. [ the dead infiltrate his perception. nikolai once observed it’s not just something that afflicts him when they touch; it’s always. ] For once, [ not quite teasing, but hinting at it. ] you’re not the exception. [ because nikolai is exceptional to him. there’s no one else he would drown for repeatedly — no, nightly. ] Everyone feels this way. [ it’s a flaw so reliable that kaz has exploited it with frightful success. he tips his head from one side to the other, considering. a small frown. ] Most not as deeply as you. [ masked or otherwise, it’s always been obvious to kaz that nikolai’s emotions are too big for his restricted role. with outsized passion for his country, for his people, for progress — and for you — of course the resulting pain is too much. ]
If you love a thing, you fear its loss. [ impossible to keep nikolai’s descent from plaguing his vision, lashes fluttering. ] Two sides, one coin. [ his thumb arcs over the apple of nikolai’s cheek.] Whether you’re with me or not, it won’t stop. [ no matter distance traversed or walls erected, you can’t rid yourself of either feeling. nothing has cured him of his affection for nikolai. even with the tide rolling in, thoughts of kissing him soundly — holding him — pressing close — persist. ] There's no protecting you from it. [ hadn't he tried? when there was still time, or at least when it seemed like there was. earlier than you likely imagined. his pulse skips. ] But you needn’t face it alone. [ gently, he curls his other hand around nikolai’s. ]
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he tilts his cheek into kaz’s palm, desperate for the meager warmth he imagines bleeding through the leather of his gloves. you needn’t face it alone, a promise he wants to grasp and hold tight to his heart, but they’ve had too many nights apart already and too many ahead, a gaping, lonely emptiness awaiting him when this night ends. his eyes shutter, turning so his mouth brushes lightly over the tip of kaz’s gloved finger. after all the work they’d done to coax them off and he’s the reason kaz wears them again now, no excuse but his own selfish need to be touched. ]
But I do. [ need to face it alone. he draws in a steadying breath, finding the tattered edges of his composure and settling it around him like a familiar mantle, patched up again and again with brand new fraying threads. he wants desperately to take this comfort from kaz, to let himself be weak and hollow if only for a few moments more, but the scent of blood hangs too strongly in the air, reality pushing against him on all sides. he opens his eyes, his features carefully schooled back into casual dignity. ] The monster has me in a place where I can’t reach you, and you certainly shouldn’t be reaching for me.
[ an argument weakened, perhaps, by the way he grips kaz’s hand even tighter as he says it, as if it will pain him to let go, as if he hopes kaz can hear the things left unsaid. impossible to know if he even can, brilliant deduction skills hindered by lack of experience in matters of the heart. if you love a thing, you fear its loss. perhaps true, but unacceptable — or at least something he’d rather largely ignore. he doesn’t have to give voice to how his fear is eating him alive. ]
If you love a thing, the work is never done. [ a mild correction. maybe one kaz will bristle beneath, but it’s a truth nikolai has lived by his entire life. he helps kaz to his feet when he stands, bearing the weight of his bad leg and holding him steady as the boat rocks beneath them at the movement. with a flash of a smile, he sweeps a fur blanket around kaz’s shoulders before they cross to the other side to the waiting bed of blankets and cushions that nikolai lowers kaz to without asking, propping an overstuffed pillow beneath his leg. he scurries back to fetch the lamp, setting it close to warm them, and then perches on one of the storage trunks bracketing the small space, the bottle of brandy dangling loosely in one hand and the tea in the other. he wants badly to slide down beside him, enough clothing and soft furs to separate them, but he hesitates nonetheless, watching the moonlight cast colorless shadows along kaz’s sharp angles.
he swings his gaze upward to catch sight of the stars instead, something else to focus on, but kaz’s presence is like a magnetic force that brings him to his knees, sliding close so he can tilt his chin upward to follow the path of his eyes. this is the thing he wanted all along, and it feels wrong and right at once, kaz’s blue eyes catching the light, his lashes dark and cheeks pale. nikolai’s mouth doesn’t brush his ear when he speaks, his voice low, but he imagines that it does, imagines his lips dragging along the cut of his jaw, licking at his pulse, feeling the steady — or unsteady — cadence of life beneath his skin. he swallows and looks up again instead, brandy and tea both forgotten on the slate trunk tops. ]
That’s the raven. [ he points to a faint, boxy constellation to the far left. ] I’ve heard any number of stories about each one, a different one at each new city, but it so happens that a god asked this sacred raven to watch over his pregnant lover. The lover went off and fell in love with another man, and the god’s wrath toward the raven was so great that he scorched its wings and left them blackened as punishment. [ he fusses with a corner of the blanket, smoothing his hand down kaz’s side and stopping when he feels the bandage beneath the soft fur. a lonely, jarring reminder to let go. he leans back on his hands and smiles, achingly sweet. ] I always liked the mariner’s compass best, though. You can’t see it tonight, but — maybe in Fjerda. If we’re lucky and the new queen and king don’t throw me in prison for a laugh.
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hard to parse what nikolai means by correcting him. what work remains? hasn’t kaz spent months sanding down his edges and opening his throat? all for someone who would rather drown than have you. kaz pulls his hand from nikolai’s before he stands, instead fumbling over the first buttons if his shirt, made of material finer (and bluer) than he’d ever pick for himself, silky against the skin. if he didn’t think nikolai might disappear, he’d slip beneath the deck like the shadow he is. unfortunately, even this latest humiliation isn’t enough to supplant that fear. although he manages to stand on his own, nikolai swiftly provides the help he wouldn’t ask for.
every gesture of care must be so small to nikolai, having been loved and loved in turn. kaz scrubs a hand over his face to stop it from crumpling, a burgeoning wetness rubbed from his eyes. a blanket heavy enough to slow his shakes, wrapped around his shoulders. a pillow slid beneath his leg where it most hurts. no one has ever cared for him like this. he’s never let them.
with good reason. it’s ruinous. there’s nothing more painful than being confronted with the very thing he sacrificed to get what he wanted — what he thought he wanted. it’s as if nikolai dragged a subterranean, hellish creature into the sun. maybe he did. it burns just the same. worse, the raking light will pass, leaving him scorched in the dark.
the occasional shudder overtakes him, limbs refusing to still after revisiting his waterlogged nightmares in the flesh. even once the distance between them clears his head, he has no counter. no matter how much nikolai claims to feel, it’s not enough. not to name the feeling outright, let alone act on it. with a sigh, he rolls the tension from his shoulders as he looks up without seeing. if only he could go away inside and say nothing, or return to his room atop the slat that no one dare enter uninvited. but nikolai is here, not there. close enough that if kaz turned his head, he’d need only tip it to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his neck. tempting in the firelight. and unwanted.
he thought that playing the bastard would dull the ache, at least, no satisfaction quite like the collapse of bone beneath his balled fist. it hadn’t. nor had the attentions of others, endured to suit his strategy and curiosity both. the moment nikolai called him back, he came limping to his door. pathetic — and unchanged. when nikolai speaks, kaz listens, eyes flitting sideways to sneak a glimpse at his freckles before following the curve of his arm to the stars. as it happens, he knows little of constellations beyond basic navigation. since stories like this didn’t serve his aims, he never bothered to collect them. blackened wings conjure the demon, and he wonders about the mechanics of its shadowy limbs. hadn’t been able to see how they sprung forth in the dank cellar.
struck by an impulse, kaz reaches across nikolai’s back to drape the blanket across them both, clothed shoulders brushing before he straightens and busies himself with his buttons. maybe in fjerda, nikolai says, where they’re going. where he went to the ends of reality to save the man beside him. where nina zenik will look at him with those huge, knowing eyes of hers while she draws the merzost from his bones. ]
[ mildly, brows arching — ] You’re not the one who stole from them. [ something he hadn’t mentioned on their way out, given the circumstances of their parting. he stole from shu han, too, as he left his meeting with the princess, exhilarated that his legend had expanded its domain. and, of course, he took from ravka shortly thereafter. twice. the first time, he only thieved from the courtiers who attended his audience with the dragon queen (and bargained dimitri into his service). the second, he’d nicked books from the palace library and replaced an emerald embedded in a lantsov bust with a rather lovely rock. there’d been little else to do without nikolai’s company, after all.
hazarding another glance at nikolai, kaz’s heart scrambles into his throat. nikolai remains sun-drenched, as always, even in the moon-dark. his smile hurts just as much as every token of affection. if this is all kaz can give him, if this is all nikolai wants — he turns away and blows out an exhale. maybe the work isn’t yet done. ]
Fortunately, I’m rather talented at breaking in and out of Fjerdan prisons. [ a flat look. ] You’ll have to pay for my services, of course. [ tipping his head this way and that. ] But since I’ll be freeing myself, anyway, there’s an argument to be made for a lower rate.
[ if nikolai won’t help himself, kaz will convince the demon that their interests are aligned. it must want food, life, freedom. a lever is a lever. hadn’t it asked who marked him, too, when they last spoke? as if it mattered. as if any scar from a person could compare. ]
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warm fur spills over his shoulders, magicked into place by kaz's clever hands. a surprising gesture, and one that makes him think of how few times they've been allowed to share an intimacy like this. tangled covers, the press of limbs, the shroud of night. nikolai mourns the sight of kaz's pale skin disappearing beneath his neat buttons, reaching for the flask of tea and swallowing down a sweetened mouthful, the soothing warmth spreading through his chest and reminding him of the ache of missing home. ]
There's hardly anything in Fjerda worth stealing. Maybe one of their tanks for tinkering with. [ their bloated military might had been both criminal and impressive at once, though serving as their target certainly diminished much of his awe. a flash of cold snow and hot blood skitters through his mind, a sour taste rushing to his tongue. he switches the tea for brandy, lounging back on the cushioned pile beneath them and carefully snaking out his free hand to idly circle kaz's bicep, his fingers tracing his tattoo from memory. ] Yes, stories of your foolhardy adventure to the Ice Court were much discussed at the palace, mostly by me, because I couldn't figure out how you did it. I suppose I was taken by you even earlier than I realized. [ he huffs out a laugh, gently squeezing his shoulder. ] Zoya wanted to have you shot for leading Nina astray.
[ her anger had been so comically palpable while nikolai's fascination had simply grown as each bit of the story unfolded, his eyes firmly on brekker without even knowing who he was or where this boy had even come from. his gaze strays to him now, his profile illuminated by the moonlight, dark hair a tousled mess from his haphazard toweling. nikolai reaches out with his stained gloves and gently tucks back a windblown lock, fingers curling around the shell of kaz's ear. who else gets to see him like this, the boy beneath the hardened lines and severe looks? nikolai will never tire of it. ]
I meant for you to find peace somewhere in the water. [ he wanted to somehow give him that, arrogant enough to believe that he could. still trying to be useful. kaz had so easily pegged him right, his foolish desires priced too high tonight. he can at least take him to fjerda, at least get him to zenik. and then what? their time is always running out. his fingers skate gently down the line of his throat, shifting to the nape of his neck. after a moment he's coaxing kaz back, drawing him in so he settles against his heartbeat, his dark hair tickling the edge of his jaw.
he allows him a moment to settle — or a moment to pull away, but he'll have to make a conscious choice to leave the circle of his arms, pulling the furs close around kaz. an apology of sorts, for making him dive into the depths to fetch him, or maybe just to warm him, to chase the dark waters from his head, to remind him that he's above the sea now, as safe as can be with a man of questionable control. warm breath soaks through kaz's hair when nikolai drops his lips to his crown. ] I've no right to ask you for anything, but — give me this one night with you. One night of rest. I don't want to go back, because then — you'll go. [ a shaky breath, his eyes shuttering. ] You don't like my neighborhood.
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kaz fails to listen carefully to nikolai’s reply, lost in the touches given over like they’re nothing. they’re not nothing. they’re incapable of being categorised as such. every single one tugs him nearer, nikolai’s gloved hand as good as hooking into his neck, a different sort of shiver inching down his spine. there’s uncertainty, of course, leading him to fidget until he’s comfortable on nikolai’s firm chest. eventually, his heartbeat replaces the sounds of the waves, steady and alive.
if anyone else told him they wanted him to find peace in the water, he’d laugh. only in death. instead, his pulse flutters. ]
There’s no peace for someone like me. [ fearful and fearsome, a self-made monster. ] There’s only you. [ for want of entombing himself at nikolai’s throat, he turns his nose into his silken shoulder, breathing in the palace perfumes and seasalt. in embracing him, nikolai presses for an intimacy that leaves kaz questioning the rules of this engagement. is he allowed to touch? nikolai’s mouth warms his hair, but it seems different when he initiates taction now, like his wanting itself is corrosive. is this how nikolai had felt the first time they kissed, knowing that it might be the very thing to drown him? ]
I despise your neighbourhood. [ muffled, so kaz lifts up to settle one hand beside nikolai’s head, while his injured palm balances over his heart. the fur blanket slips down his back. his eyes are as wild as they are aching. ] But one night isn’t enough. I’ve left you too many times already. [ his mistakes as painful — worse, than nikolai’s, because he failed to use his cleverness to understand this person who matters above all else. fuck the crow club, the merchant council, and all of ketterdam. ] I’m staying tonight. Tomorrow. [ on the sofa, he anticipates, if nikolai makes a hat-trick of his rejections on this miserable night. ] Even if I don’t know how to be close to you and not want — to kiss you now. [ his elbows bend, lowering as if he might. ] You don't have to do anything. You don't have to say it. [ all of that seems irrelevant, when nikolai himself, whole and hale, is the goal. ] I’m staying.
[ because kaz brekker does whatever he wishes. and he wishes for nikolai to know that he’s wanted, even if that feeling isn’t returned. for him to be safe, even if nikolai would rather drown. it matters not if he hates kaz for his stubbornness in this. kaz already decided he was willing to pay any price to shelter him. ]
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all he's wanted this whole time is for kaz to stay, and yet how can he? nikolai hasn't fed the monster since that harrowing night in the cellar — since kaz fed it for him — ignoring the sharp hunger pangs that have no doubt worsened his condition. but even now his grip on the beast is as secure as he can hope for. if they're to leave for fjerda soon, they can't have night after night of this. in the practical sense, he needs kaz to watch him, to know when he's himself and when he's not, to tell him how far he's really gone.
and in the less practical sense — his gloved hand moving gently through kaz's hair, tracing the line of his temple down to his cheek, his thumb touching his bottom lip, the unspoken desire hanging heavy in the air — he needs him. he needs his presence. being alone has been untenable, moving through his days like a ghost, sometimes nikolai and sometimes some other dark, gloomy thing clinging to him like a shroud and blocking out every bit of the light he struggles so valiantly to keep close. it's been so long since he's had no one, moving from prince to privateer to king, never taking a breath in between, always making sure to charm enough people along the way so that he'd never have to be alone. but kaz is different. kaz is not in his court or on his crew. nikolai can't make him stay by royal mandate. what is it that he's always saying? he has to want to come back, or people are not things, or — something that he should've, perhaps, paid more attention to. ]
Being with you, for me, was peace. [ a quiet whisper, barely audible above the beating of his heart. he'd press his thumb into kaz's mouth if his gloves weren't stained with his blood, giving his bottom lip one last, gentle swipe before trailing down his pale throat, following the thin rope of scar tissue with the tip of his finger. ] I wanted to be that for you, too. [ a safe place to land. it all went wrong, somehow, after starting so right. or maybe it was always wrong, the demon robbing him of all sense and reason from the start.
his palm settles briefly over kaz's heart, faint beneath the layers of fabric separating them (or because he nearly drowned him). how many people have heard this cadence? then his hand sweeps up again to cover kaz's eyes, leaning in to press a kiss to the back of his own knuckles. ]
So stay. I'll have you for as many nights as you'll give me. [ he presses his forehead to the back of his hand, closing his eyes and allowing their breaths to mingle. though he keeps his voice soft — and attempts to keep his tone light — the relief is palpable behind his words. ] If you would try and rest now — please — I'll bring you inside when we get to shore.