[ the dream goes on for a long time. it’s been going on for years, maybe, picking up where it left off whenever he sinks into a sleep strong enough to hold him under. endless water reflects a starless sky. peaceful, the way drowning and death can be. lulled by the tide’s rhythm and floating the way nikolai instructed, it’s not so bad.
suddenly, the air changes. the sea changes. a chill shivers through him. his stomach lurches, a ship pitching over a great wave, and kaz wakes with a start. an alarmed sound catches in his throat as black eyes glitter like broken glass, kaleidoscopic in his blurred vision. his stare slices down the person beside him. a dream. his throat constricts. golden hair falls in nikolai’s face, moonlight gilding his browbone, eyes black as an eclipse. a nightmare.
as if to counter his pulse taking flight under nikolai’s bare grip, his bandaged hand encircles his wrist. the other slides beneath the pillow still cradling his skull in search of the dagger kept in his bed. only succeeds in brushing another pillow, beaded with an intricate pattern that he doesn’t recognise. breathe, jordie reminds him. he isn’t drowning, after all, just thrown into the canal. kaz fights to contain the panic stirring low in his gut. for the first time since the ice court, he has no tricks up his sleeve. swathed in nikolai’s fine clothes and blankets, there’s no armour to protect him, no back-up in place or plan to spare. all stunning proof of his foolishness. his leg pangs painfully enough that either genya’s tea has worn off or the wound recognises its creator. even so, kaz remains still. that's how you're meant to face an animal. ]
And here I was, [ voice rough with sleep and taut with nerves. ] planning our next date.
[ you know this nikolai, too. perhaps better than nikolai himself, since he’s unafraid to meet its eyes. his thumb drags over the veins in nikolai’s wrist, wondering whether blood or shadow might spill if he jammed his nail into the skin. no sense in starting a fight he’ll surely lose, of course. despite the rising waterline, nikolai’s pulse persists, proof of life. it doesn’t want you dead, he reminds himself at the same moment the nikolai of his memory warns, it wants to be the one to break you. perhaps it’s convenient that he’s already rather broken, after the events of the day. ]
[ gaze sharp on nikolai’s uncanny other, ] Have you been awake long? [ a neutral opener, since all he has to defend himself is his clever tongue (and that particular weapon is double-edged). nikolai and the demon have been wrenching control from one another more frequently than in the past, when either one might steer their person for an extended period. but is their newfound fluidity in play because nikolai has grown stronger — or is it the demon gaining ground? regardless, the interruptions (whether nikolai’s concern and the demon’s own bloodthirsty impulses) have prevented kaz from engaging in any illuminating conversations until now. that the demon is here, not out feeding, signals something. a lever, albeit one he may regret pulling. ]
[ nikolai’s smile would betray a hundred things easily missed in a blink — soft affection, hesitation, apprehension, a desire impossible to dull by distance or time — but the thing that flickers across his lips now is a gesture out of place, ravenous and unsettling in equal measures, his teeth glinting sharply in the moonlight. in a flash he’s on kaz, the razor-sharp tip of a fang scraping down the line of his jaw, stained fingers digging hard into his collarbone as he knocks him back against the heavy wooden frame of the bed, pinning him there with unnatural strength. his tongue laves against his pulse, a motion that should be familiar from how many times nikolai himself has tasted kaz’s skin, but this feels nothing like it. it’s an animal’s touch, heavy with the threat that teeth could sink into veins and tendons at any moment and it wouldn’t be anything but the natural order of things. a storybook monster taking his prey.
ignoring the question, ] You’ve missed this, haven’t you?
[ touch. nikolai’s hands skate over the silken fabric of kaz’s borrowed shirt, giving a sharp tug to tear the buttons loose — familiar fingers, but wielded with a carelessness nikolai wouldn’t use. his mouth latches onto kaz’s throat hard enough to bruise but a step removed from drawing blood, a growl rumbling through his chest. ]
You’ve lain awake at night, wanting him. Wishing he would touch you. [ the voice that comes from nikolai’s mouth is smooth as polished quartz, like slipping beneath the cold, still water, immobilizing. no traces of warmth or joy, only a rigid sort of desire and gaping hunger. his tongue soothes over reddened flesh, licking at kaz’s pulse. ] I could cut the words out of him. I love you. Those words, and everything else he’s hiding from you, all the other things he refuses to say because you’re weak.
[ in an instant he has kaz’s bandaged hand cradled against his mouth, lips pressed to his palm as he inhales deeply of the scent of blood. his teeth sink into the linen fabric, tearing away the dressings to reveal the jagged gash cutting across his skin, his thumb digging into the edge of the wound until fresh blood pricks in the dim light. nikolai goes still, his breath short, shadows dancing across his angled features. for a brief moment, the pervasive blackness in his eyes ripple with something more, a flash of green-gold lost in its depths. ]
I’ve taken his nights and plagued them with horrors. So he chooses not to sleep at all. [ his voice grows brittle, breath hot against kaz’s hand as he hovers close to the red glistening at his palm. ] I’ve plunged his mind into confusion and chaos and still he walks about half blinded by the dark as if nothing is wrong. I take away his ability to touch you — and it’s only you — and still he doesn’t —
[ his control seems to falter, a growl rising in his throat as he crowds kaz once more, his knee digging hard into his bandaged ribs, wrist pinned to the bed frame. ] You’re the lever I need to pull. For freedom. For fresh blood. We coexisted once, but he needed my strength to win his war. I was useful then, another weapon in his arsenal, a problem he couldn’t solve but could adapt to his needs when all of his walls were closing in. But now he’s fracturing beneath the weight of his regrets, only he doesn’t have the luxury to fall apart. There are two of us, and I can’t go this long without sustenance.
So you — [ finally, his tongue laps at his palm, blood smearing across his mouth. the care he takes with his wound is almost tender, threats briefly forgotten when the salty taste floods his deprived senses, easing the pressure on kaz’s ribs. ] Will convince him to provide for my needs. Every seven days, I feed. Or — [ a flash of taloned fingers rake across nikolai’s own throat, his shirt suddenly soaking with blood from two neat lines running sharply along his collarbone. ] It doesn’t matter what I do to him, you know. You already know his desire for life is as strong as the flame of a dying candle. But your desire to see him live burns much more brightly, doesn’t it? So do what you do best. Strike a deal. The alternative is that he starves me anyway and I give him the death he’s craved all along. And you — [ his tongue presses to his palm again, eyes glittering darkly through the fall of pale hair. ] Go untouched and unloved until you die miserable and alone.
[ it’s almost compelling to watch nikolai’s mouth twist into a off-kilter expression. is it the darkling’s lingering presence, or does the creature truly have a mind of its own, born of nikolai and the nichevo'ya‘s unholy union? if kaz could observe him longer, he’d know, so he studies him. whatever warning he sees isn’t enough in the face of monstrous speed. when his back hits the hard wood, it jolts him out of his fascinated stupor, a gasp of surprise-pain stuttering into something else. revulsion and desire snake down the ridges of his spine. it won’t kill you.
his hand finds purchase on nikolai’s shoulder, not so foolish as to shove him off. instead, kaz tries to anticipate his movements. the ripple of muscle before nikolai opens his collar. the shift of his weight that forewarns it sinking against him, heavy as a corpse. kaz digs his nails into nikolai’s back, like he’s the only thing keeping them afloat. it’s cold here, colder than the sea had been, icy like the harbour. no choice but to bury a wounded sound in the crown of nikolai’s head, as he — it soothes the very bruise it created. never strays from his pulse, from the thing it wants. a lever is a lever. ]
[ with a breathy scoff, ] Nothing quite as flattering as a forced confession, is there. [ a true dismissal of affection extracted by coercion or cruelty, which has never appealed to him. an attempt at smoothing his composure with his customary dryness, too. it might be convincing, if not for the tremors running through his person, rattling apart in nikolai’s hold. weak, like the way he needs to bite the inside of his cheek until he draws blood to stop any humiliating cry from sounding as nikolai carves his wound wider. on instinct, he tries to twist his palm away from nikolai’s teeth, glinting in the light as the bandages fall away.
for a second, he — it hesitates, expression giving, a familiar warmth haunting its abyssal eyes. its control has been fractured by nikolai’s inner strength and its own yawning hunger. desperation animates its actions and its restraint, stalled above his wound, not yet taking. kaz notes every word, each fact the demon imparts, and resists thoughts of nikolai (hopefully sunken too deep to witness this himself). only you. you’re the lever. in all his cleverness, kaz hadn’t realised the extent to which that could be true for all aspects of nikolai lantsov. at least, not until his other begins drinking from his hand, cradled like a breakable, precious thing. careful, or at least intentional, in how it handles him, and careless with itself, just the same as nikolai. as he bloodies himself (itself, nikolai), kaz’s breath catches, only to even into shallow huffs.
untouched and unloved, as if he hasn’t always been this way, apart from those fleeting moments. before he drowned. before nikolai decided he wasn’t worth the risk. still, his desire to see nikolai live outmatches all others. ]
Everyone dies alone. [ surety there, underwriting his words with steel. no mourners, no funerals. contrary to every instinct, he tips his still-bleeding hand to nikolai’s mouth. an offering, exchanged so that the slackening it causes in nikolai will allow him to wind his other arm forward again. a roll of his shoulder soothes the pained muscle. ] But now that Nikolai has shut you out, you exist in isolation. [ eyes flinty, kaz cards a hand through the hair falling in nikolai’s face, studying the spiderwebbing shadows that cut through his freckles. ] Only you live this way, observing all who love him from a distance. You. [ a short, dark laugh. ] Created by someone who wanted love so desperately they would suffer eternally for it, [ martyrdom ensuring pigeons across ravka might know his wretched name. pathetic. ] and bound to someone who shares that flaw, except he knows how to treat it. [ by welcoming all he meets into his light. ] Nikolai would kill himself and you in a heartbeat. I’m all you have. [ an echo: if you die, he dies. without waiting for a response, kaz knocks nikolai’s knee aside, leveraging off the headboard to reverse their positions and knock his offending arm back. it’s more about the act of rebellion than escape, which is an impossibility, one wrist still caught in nikolai’s iron grip. ]
[ tsking — ] None of that now, if you want my cooperation. [ he jerks his head, sweat-slick hair flicked aside to reveal his razored jaw. ] Tonight, you’ll ensure he rests, unbothered by your nightmares. You’ll let me wake him, touch him, and convince him to try sating you. And if you behave — as a gesture of good faith, I’ll feed you tomorrow night. [ this time, he bites his cheek again to distract from the blossoming pain in his leg, worsened at this angle, weighing down nikolai’s limbs for show. or perhaps he draws blood as a precursor to dipping his head low, mouth red and eyes wild. dirtyhands can handle this even if he can’t. ] We’ll negotiate from there.
[ as if to secure their deal, kaz kisses nikolai — or the thing that’s both nikolai and not — mouth full of copper. a monster need not fear its kind. ]
[ the blood should make him strong but it only pulls at a fatal weakness — that he needs more of it, that he would do anything for it. killing kaz brekker has never been on the table. nikolai will not feed him but kaz might — does, now, his clever words jumbled in a mind frenzied with ravenous want and the taste of fresh, hot blood offered willingly to his lips. nikolai is harsh sunlight that burns to look at, garish and blinding, but kaz is a slip of serrated darkness, so sharp that one doesn’t even feel the killing blow sinking into flesh. they’re alike. his mouth opens, hungry for the taste, the barest thread of knowing that you can’t kill the hand that feeds you stopping his teeth from sinking into the soft give of his mouth. ]
Fine. [ muttered darkly, lost in the slick warmth of the kiss. where nikolai ends and the monster begins has long since blurred, it and him now one and the same, desire for flesh and blood and desire for kaz brekker no longer parallel lines in the sand. they bleed together into the same fervent want, to rip him open, to handle him gently, to kiss and kiss and kiss him so that the taste of his blood will always be on his lips. ] Human flesh. Not animal.
[ a single condition, perhaps something kaz will refuse to negotiate, but a creature like him isn’t meant to feed on soulless beings. the promise of food — and the memory of this — is enough to sate him for now. the monster slinks back and nikolai drifts to shore, a slow resurfacing but no less violent, thrown into a metallic kiss he has no memory of beginning. but even through his rising panic, he would recognize the shape of kaz’s mouth anywhere, the weight of his body against his own, the familiar scent of leather and rain. a comfort, if not for the blood flooding his senses — in his mouth, on his clothes, filling the air. a sound like a whimper escapes his throat, the kiss broken, his brow tight and eyes unfocused as he struggles briefly, his hand closing around a fistful of kaz’s rumpled shirt. ]
What have I — [ tension makes his words brittle, fear closing his throat while nausea shudders through him, blood sour on his tongue. he turns his head away, giving a half-hearted buck of his hips in an attempt to dislodge kaz, but it does little, the strength having left his body even as control returns to him, familiar tremors taking hold of him instead. the not knowing is always the worst — what he might have done, the sort of hurts he might have inflicted, who he might have killed. it paralyzes him now, his breath jagged, crushed with shame. as much as he wants to be away in this moment — as much as he wants kaz far away from him, safe that way — he paws at him with trembling fingers, clinging to him while the harrowing memory of blood and snow crashes through him.
remember who you are. a desperate litany. pain blooms at his collar as he forces his wild gaze back to kaz, taking in the red streaked across his mouth and his shirt torn open, the blossom of a heavy bruise at his throat. without thinking, his scarred fingers reach up to trace the sweat-slick, mottled skin, the wild flutter of his pulse beneath. in the back of his mind something takes flight. they’re touching. ]
Tell me. [ a whisper, his voice quivering. ] Tell me what I did to you.
[ you’ve missed this, haven’t you. there’s power of different kinds, in being a desired thing and a monstrous thing. surely he can’t be both, always tipping too far to one side and not the other. the demon’s condition marks a tricky turn in his ever-changing path forward. it doesn’t repulse him, though he knows it should. killing is always a kind of consumption.
dirtyhands wouldn’t flinch, so kaz doesn’t. his grip tightens, he presses closer — and he hears that whimper. knows the sound, with how it shattered his plans and composure back in the cellar. the recognition helps him click back into the person he is with nikolai, more kaz than brekker. it makes him pack away his ruthless determination and unease, tidied and set aside. unmoving, he hovers above nikolai until the disorientation passes. awe stretches his features wider before he can stop it, the flush climbing his throat the only warmth left from being so close to the demon and the depths. but you did it, dragged nikolai back from the underworld once more, whether he wished to return or not. ]
You didn’t hurt me — [ but that would be smudging the truth, when nikolai opened his skin wider and lapped at the wound. kaz shakes his head quick, hair falling back in his face. ] Not really. [ better. kaz folds his uninjured hand over nikolai’s, pressing his palm to his pulse. his heart hammers like it has to prove he’s alive. they’re touching. ] It’s okay. We’re okay. [ unsure who needs to hear that more, a wobble in the arm propping him up. they’re okay for now, he should say, until nikolai throws him away for all he’s already done or what he’ll gladly do. ]
You barely — [ touched him, but it did, mouth feverish at his throat, drinking from his palm and trailing ice across his chest. ] Just here. [ his thumb arcs over nikolai’s wrist, still held to his his throat. ] Here. [ kaz guides his hand into the uneven v of his shirt, unharmed but touched. can’t say what nikolai will make of this, places his hands and mouth have travelled before — but not without his knowledge, his gentle intentions. is it a betrayal to take all the parts of nikolai, even the ones he rejects? ] My other hand. [ curled so tightly in the sheets beside nikolai’s head that they’ve sprung untucked from beneath the mattress. ] Because of the blood. [ telling enough, he hopes, to avoid the truths that will do the most harm. ] There’s too much of you in it now to hurt me badly.
[ an idea nikolai will undoubtedly scoff at, though kaz’s generally unharmed person must be equally unsettling in its impossibility. ]
[ voice low and scratchy, ] You hurt yourself. [ his gaze flits from nikolai’s frightened eyes to his red mouth, then down to his bloodied front, unsure what his own, ever-shifting and masking expression might give away. ] Let me clean you up and explain the rest. [ after the demon releases him, nikolai tends to collapse, the bodily exhaustion of possession or transformation too much, so he adds — ] Now or in the morning. [ kaz brings their linked hands to his mouth, brushing a kiss over nikolai’s knuckles. his words fail to answer nikolai fully, let alone explain how he ended up pinned beneath kaz’s weight, licking blood off the back of his teeth. ] Whatever you decide, that's what we'll do.
[ careful to return the control that the nichevo'ya so violently strips from him when it surfaces. he needs to metre out the truth to keep nikolai from drowning in it, not withhold it indefinitely. ]
[ piercing blue keeps him afloat, kaz's eyes cutting through the harrowing dark of his blood-soaked memories. he's loathe for his gaze to stray elsewhere, even as kaz guides his touch to places beloved and familiar, places he's wondered a dozen times would ever feel the touch of another. and now he knows, only he never imagined it would be this shameful, despised part of himself. he only ever thought the monster would rend kaz limb from limb — a fair conclusion, considering the disturbing images force-fed to him night after night — not this. not kiss him in the way only nikolai has, leave marks in the secret places reserved just for him.
it rattles him to think on this brand new way to hurt kaz — worse than the threats of before, because if anyone can take a beating, it's kaz brekker, but the language of intimacy is largely unexplored territory, and has kaz spared a thought to what might happen if he loses himself to the waters and the monster decides not to stop? touching him, bruising him, kissing him. nikolai doesn't believe for a moment that there's enough of him in the beast that it will suddenly exhibit the highly specific sort of care that kaz requires, the constant mindfulness and consideration of where his head might be at any given moment — a care that he's happy to give. that kaz allows him now to touch him so freely and frequently isn't something he takes for granted, not when he remembers intimately how much he suffered at the start for it — and even now kaz could slip and he could lose him at any time, thrown back to the grueling start.
but nikolai already knows that kaz would take it as a slight to hear any of this. he would think himself weak for it — that nikolai thinks him weak, when it couldn't be further from the truth. kaz finds this sort of concern unpalatable, but nikolai can't help the way he worries, especially now when he knows his monster could break kaz in such new, irrevocable ways. perhaps he's right and the monster wouldn't kill him, but death might be kinder. and nikolai certainly would never forgive himself.
his doomsaying is interrupted by a wave of brittle exhaustion, suddenly glad to be abed with the way his limbs go weak and his vision blurs. he has only a vague awareness of his wounds, the gashes along his collar throbbing dully, but kaz brings attention to his hand and he realizes the dressings have come undone, blood soaking into the sheets from his tense grip. there’s too much of it all around him, an overpowering and pervasive scent that he wishes wasn’t so familiar. because of the blood. there’s something missing but he doesn’t have the energy to parse out what, cradling kaz’s cheek with one hand and sliding the other along his spine, pushing at the small of his back to maneuver kaz down to his side to ease what must be tremendous pressure from his leg. ]
I don’t think you understand — [ with the last bit of his strength, he tears at the hem of his own shirt, crudely wrapping the strip of cloth around kaz’s palm. ] How bad this is. [ there could be more — there is more on the tip of his tongue, but he’s swiftly losing steam, thoughts jumbled and nonsensical, and what does kaz mean by explain the rest? it sets off every alarm bell, just like the way that he can touch him now without the mental assault of carnage has him equal parts grateful and apprehensive.
or perhaps his gratitude outweighs the other, with the way he leans in to seek his closeness after too long apart, fingers careful as they glide beneath kaz’s shirt to travel down the notches of his spine, then slowly up once more, reminding himself that they’re both relatively whole even if nothing else seems to be going right. he wants nothing more than to stay in this moment, but the darkness comes rushing back — not the monster, but the sudden weight of days (months, years) of lost rest catching up to him, his breath heavy. his fingers curl at kaz’s hip, startled as he brushes his bandages, then smoothing gently over them. ]
Stay with me. [ different from all the times he’s asked this very same thing of kaz, not an appeal to draw him back from the waters but to keep his own head above the sealine. if he wakes and kaz is gone, having decided to be done with this bloody work, cutting the only tether keeping him afloat — ] Please. [ there’s too much evidence of his dwindling sanity here, his drafting table looking like a madman’s workshop, his nonsensical scrawl across all surfaces detailing equations and bloodshed alike. he longs for the perverse familiarity of his shackles, his wounds bleeding onto kaz’s skin as his slick mouth presses to kaz’s ear. ] I’ll do better. I’ll make this right.
[ if only he could figure out the trick of making kaz brekker stay. it’s the last thought he has before falling into a rare dreamless sleep, his breathing deep and even for the first time in what feels like a lifetime — certainly since this nightmare began. ]
[ there’s a chasm between how this nikolai handles him and how the other one gripped him moments earlier. it’s worse than you know, kaz thinks darkly, but there’s nothing to be gained from encouraging or fighting nikolai’s pessimism. better to place his wrapped hand in nikolai’s and lean closer, unlocking his limbs and recalibrating for intimacy. he missed this for longer than nikolai realises — at least since his touch was met hurt in place of softness on nikolai’s arrival in ketterdam. because you left. the waters calm, nonetheless. kaz finds himself back in the position where the demon first reached him in his room atop the slat. vulnerable. as he gives in to nikolai’s guiding touch, a final shudder works down his shoulders to his panging leg. ]
We both will. [ it’s no longer something nikolai can manage alone, both because of the demon’s strength and the thorny territory kaz has already traversed. can’t turn back now. he reaches across nikolai’s bloody chest, as if to hold him together, and feels panicked huffs smooth into deep drags. the demon’s terms already fulfilled. a temporary reprieve, undoubtedly, but that’s all kaz brekker needs to think. nikolai may prefer a perfect solution, but kaz has never had the luxury of overlooking a messy interim fix. even shaking and bloodied, he has nikolai closer than he did before — his condition improved, if only marginally. without meaning to do so, he drifts off after nikolai.
perhaps predictably, kaz wakes first, nikolai’s blood dried on his cheek. the rise and fall of nikolai’s chest proves steady, the rhythm of it drowning out the waves (though his limbs are heavy with rot, flesh distending wetly). he extricates himself carefully, like the thief he is, and surveys the damage, touching and not touching, memorising every ridge and valley of nikolai at peace. eventually, with the first slats of light filtering through the curtains, kaz ventures to nikolai’s bathroom to clean himself up — wiping the blood from his mouth and towelling it from his hair. lingering there, he examines the latest mark made by nikolai unknowingly, purpling his skin just below the thin rope of scar tissue lining the hinge of his jaw. the claw marks on his chest from their first intimate encounter have scarred over, which nikolai will surely hate. he already visibly aches when he touches evidence of hurts from the time before him, after all.
the gifted clothes are unsalvageable, so kaz chucks them out, borrowing a gaudy robe until he can scout nikolai’s collection or send for his own things. in the organised chaos, it takes time to find supplies to tend nikolai’s wounds and organise them according to their need. first, kaz re-wraps his hand, ensuring the widened gash looks no bigger than it did before nikolai pried it open and drank from it. (human flesh). a sudden thought: there are fresh corpses in ketterdam every day. just as swiftly, nausea crashes over him and nearly drags him under, eyes unfocused until they meet their match in the mirror, hands clenched against the counter. nikolai won’t be able to stomach that. his glare hardens. and you will?
a peak into the bedroom confirms nikolai rests despite the muted thuds of his cane. kaz noses around the room and gathers clues to his mental state, as if deteriorating requires greater specificity. he then expands his silent search to the living area, re-examining the notebook where nikolai records his nightmares and mad desires. it still astounds him, to find his name written again and again. as much as kaz has built a reputation on being the exception, it remains perplexing to be singled out by someone like nikolai lantsov. if nikolai indeed wants him and the demon wants to ruin him, consume him, kill him in rather vivid scenarios, that could be channelled in the same direction. with difficulty. the dark side of nikolai preferring him certainly makes more sense than the light he’s come to rest within.
while he doesn’t disturb the mess of nikolai’s room, he tidies the kitchen for want of something to do with his hands. a lock to pick, a deck to shuffle, accounts to settle. anything to help him arrange his thoughts. nikolai will have to be told the truth, both because it benefits them to collaborate on a plan and because there’s a chance nikolai will remember it on his own. once the counter’s clear, kaz leans against it, cane tucked under his arm. the pain has returned in full, the tension in his body impossible to unwind. yet he fails to comprehend how uneasy he is until he hears movement in the bedroom and his aching legs move without thought. a flash of another time they parted — nikolai bursting through the window aboard the ship — and he stumbles on his bad leg, catching himself on the bedroom doorframe. ]
[ it’s been so long since he’s woken without the cold grip of a nightmare clamped tight around his throat that it startles him to do so now, disoriented as he sits up and draws in a heavy breath. the lack of chains makes him wonder where he is, what he’s done — not on his ship (the floor is too steady), not in the palace (the walls lack the telltale sheen of gaudy gilded brocade). slowly, his surroundings return to him. a stubborn sun peeks through ketterdam’s dreary skies, limning the soft covers in light. with a jolt, he realizes the space beside him is empty, his hand sliding over the mattress. cool. something twists in his chest at the sudden knowledge that kaz must have left some time ago.
kaz. memories crash over him like a tide, the taste of blood springing to his tongue. his clothes are stained with it, neat lines across his collarbone tender where his own claws left their marks. he pushes the covers aside, suddenly wanting to be away from this grisly scene — a place a crime was committed, where he’d touched kaz without caution or reason, where he’d opened his wounds again and might have done worse had kaz not — what? what had kaz done? there’s something he’s missing, and he feels unmoored with that knowledge now, like a desperate man on his last leg, ready to tear the final rusted hinges off the only door still keeping him sane.
something bubbles up from deep within. kaz said he would stay. hadn’t he? he’d as good as promised. nikolai asked when he’s loathe to ask for anything, when the only time he’s willing to beg is for the salvation of his country, and even then he was met with rejection at every turn. it’s not something one forgets. he thinks the sound coming out of him might be a sob or the demon trying to take control again, but it’s neither. he’s standing beside his bed in his bloodied clothes and he’s laughing, uncontrollably, because of course kaz would leave, and he should leave, because the more distance that remains between them, the safer kaz can be. but saints, he said he would stay. kaz is a liar and a thief, the worst sort of bastard and an outright criminal, but seeing the room devoid of any traces of him now — not true, there’s still the blood — brings him back to that miserable moment of standing in the sunlit suite of the palace knowing that kaz brekker had boarded a ship and was halfway across the sea without saying so much as a goodbye.
a graceless thud accompanied by a familiar voice cuts off the worrying sounds choking out of him, and nikolai turns to see kaz, like a damned specter conjured from his own mind, stumbling to a halt in the doorway. his chest seizes with shock. perhaps he’s not quite awake yet, still caught in a dream full of his most fervent wants, kaz at the height of them. his hand rises to his collar, fingertips digging carelessly into the dried blood across his skin. a sharp breath. it smarts. he’s most certainly awake. ]
Brekker. [ his feet propel him forward without thinking, but abruptly he stops, as if pulled by an invisible wire. he’d been able to bear his touch last night, but nothing feels certain now. there’s only a thin film between this moment and a rush of painful memories hammering at the edges of his mind. they could be from anywhere. fjerda, ravka, here. he’s lost control in every place he’s ever stood, and he’s always been the sort of man to look a thing squarely in the eye, but that was before he’d been blindsided again and again by the gravity of his own crimes. surely he can hide here for a moment longer. ] I thought you’d gone.
[ inching closer once more — he can’t help it — he studies kaz’s face in the shadows cast along the door. he looks ill at ease, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual. a sense of foreboding plucks at nikolai’s chest as he stands before him, his fingers twitching before carefully reaching out to touch the bandages wrapped around his palm. after a weighted pause, his lashes lowering, he slides his fingers higher to rest at kaz’s bare pulse, steeling himself for the onslaught of violence ready to sink into his bones.
but it doesn’t come. there’s only the unsteady flutter of kaz’s pulse jumping beneath the pad of his fingers, his blue eyes boring hard into him. nikolai looks to the darkened bruise at his throat, worse in the morning light, and forces his gaze to pass over without comment. he remembers kaz guiding his hands over his body, retracing places touched mere moments before. his jaw tightens. it feels wrong to give in to desire now, to hold him the way he wants to, to slip his hands beneath his robe and remind him of how a proper touch should feel. he braces a hand at the small of his back instead, gentling him from the doorframe. ]
I’ll make coffee. You need to get off that leg. [ he flashes a cheerful smile, firmly steering him away from the bedroom — away from the blood, from last night’s unsavory memories. the kitchen looks bigger somehow, and after pulling out a chair for kaz and another for his leg, he brings out a gleaming writing case and sets it onto the table before kaz with a flourish. ] Pen this letter to Zenik for me. I never finished it last night. Got derailed, turned into quite the mess, you know how it goes. We can set sail tomorrow morning. Tonight, if I can scramble my crew and they get the ship stocked. There’s no need to wait for a reply when I’m certain my charm and many years of loyalty to the Ravkan crown will permit me entry. She’s fond of you too, obviously.
[ with a plink, he tosses something glittery to the table. his ring with the lantsov crest engraved into the gold. on his other hand, the sapphire gleams in the sunlight as he untidies the counter, the smell of strong coffee filling the room. ] Have you ever had blini? I’ll make you breakfast. Something Ravkan.
[ i thought you’d gone. kaz can only shake his head. too stunned by the sight (and sound) of nikolai unravelling. a fissure cracks his expression. that’s what you did to him. in ravka and the safehouse both. can’t plaster over his concern with nikolai reaching out so gingerly — fearful for himself and you. his fingers brush against nikolai’s palm in return, not seeking anything in particular, simply returning the gesture. reactive and adaptive by nature, after all he survived.
the same instincts lead him to allow nikolai’s guiding hand, lifting his leg onto the other chair (since nikolai isn’t one for sitting, either, least of all when hurting). hard not to think of how much warmer his touch feels in the dry air, without the demon steering it. as the signet rolls across the small table, he catches it and loses his focus in the process. when nikolai gave it to him on the volkvolny, kaz had been frightened for his wellbeing, chiefly, except underneath that he’d felt — trusted. chosen, to keep hold of something precious. maybe it hadn’t mattered as much to nikolai. the image of his flustered face when kaz returned it suggests otherwise. kaz holds it in his mind for a brief moment before replacing it with the real thing, whirring like a toy soldier that’s been wound up and set loose. ]
Tomorrow. [ a closer, admiring peek at the case (silver alloy, since it hasn’t rusted across the sea). briskly, then — ] Preferably the day after. We need to get our affairs in order, and it’s already half-noon. [ betraying that kaz stayed all morning, as promised. it’s just that nikolai isn’t the only one who struggles with inaction. in his tidy scrawl, he addresses the letter to the fjerdan crown and scans the few lines nikolai managed before he was derailed (by the demon, presumably). zenik won’t be available if they leave now. at any rate, he has no desire to holiday in fjerda, even in present company, and there’s the matter of their dinner plans, besides. when nikolai speaks again, kaz pauses writing his preferred timeline to level a disapproving look. ]
Come here when the coffee’s done. [ a snap of his fingers over the chair. resolute, he lowers his leg to the ground, extended to lessen its aches and make room for nikolai. ] I’ll keep you from bleeding all over my Ravkan breakfast. [ a trade, though he has the sense not to phrase it as one. you can take care of me, if i can take care of you. nikolai knows him well enough to guess that if he doesn’t comply, kaz will be up and limping. he waits until nikolai sits and swiftly drags the chair close, into the uneven v of his legs. another memory of nikolai — drawing kaz back after he skittered away the first time. best to sip his coffee and centre himself here, now.
fixed on the present task, his eyes slit at nikolai’s matted clothes, hooking fingers into his collar with one hand and slipping the other under his shirt from below. orienting himself on touch as he smoothes up to where skin sticks to fabric. a wound of this kind isn’t half as complex as a lock, but his fingers still feel out their path with care. not feverish, not clammy. ] On three. One — [ kaz tugs nikolai’s shirt from the outside and unsticks his flesh from the inside. not rotting, not dead. biting his teeth together, ] Off with it now. [ and already lifting the shirt over his head. promptly folds it in his lap, then, despite the stains: a choice possibly explained by how he drips the glass of water he retrieved by his lonesome on a clean corner. tipping up nikolai’s jaw with a firm grip, he sets about wiping the worst of the dried blood that mars the expanse from neck to collarbone. not grievously injured, not dying. it makes sense that the merzost doesn’t affect nikolai the way it does everyone else, being that it’s in his veins. now the wounds need to be disinfected and bandaged — but then one of them would have to break their closeness to fetch the supplies. voice low, ] I hate to disappoint you, [ a beat. ] but you’ll live. [ kaz finally allows the hand on nikolai’s jaw to relax and fall, gentling over his knee instead. ]
[ he wants to protest that preferably the day after means letting kaz's leg fester for longer — the voyage itself will take weeks considering they're on this damnable island, for starters — but that's hardly a strong argument to make when it comes to kaz brekker. he'd be better off trailing after him in his marvelous hat while he sets the affairs of the crow club and his gang in order until kaz is too irritated to do anything else but board the ship. a swift peek at the letter as he sinks into the chair and sets the coffee down tells him that he should have written it himself to expedite the process.
kaz's sudden touch banishes the bulk of his thoughts, nikolai's cup suspended in midair at the sensation of his cool fingers against his skin. it's a marvel every time kaz initiates contact, his expression focused as if solving a tricky equation, his movements careful, just shy of natural. nikolai doesn't mind that kaz's touch never quite reaches the point of uninhibited or innate. he's never been touched by anyone in the way that kaz touches him, with such care and attention, with such a precise intensity that makes nikolai feel seen in a way that both terrifies and enthralls him. it never meant so much to him before kaz.
a quick sting, and then his shirt is whisked away, repurposed to clean the dried blood marring his skin. his memories of the night are still shrouded, but the closer kaz's fingers get to his tender flesh, the harder he feels the press of something foreboding against the perimeter of his thoughts. he tries to reorient himself on something else — kaz's eyes, the dark lashes framing his little bits of sky, the shadows beneath them standing out against the deathlike pallor of his skin — but his heart begins to thud uncomfortably against the cage of his chest, his next breath drawn with a measure of difficulty. kaz's deft fingers can surely feel the bob in his throat when he swallows.
something isn't right. there's something he's missing, a persistent feeling that hasn't left him since his scant moments of consciousness the night before. there's something kaz isn't telling him, something he must've done to him, some way he must have hurt him that he doesn't want him to blame himself for. nikolai's jaw tightens. though not entirely sure of himself, he reaches out to trace the bruise at kaz's throat, gentle as a feather. his fingertips trail lower, down past the older scars left by the monster, nudging open his robe to ghost down his side, his knuckles brushing the bandages at his ribs. there's nothing. no other marks he can discern. ]
Brekker. [ his eyes are bright with pain, his throat tight. he takes kaz’s bandaged hand, an unbidden flash of his bloodied palm at his mouth streaking through his mind. the sharp edge of hunger gnawing at him for weeks now has gone, replaced by a dull, more manageable ache. he fed from him. from a wound already there, which is why he can find no marks left by his teeth. the thought twists him into knots. ] Kaz. Did I kiss you? [ because he’d woken to something he hadn’t started, and if the monster — ] Did I do more than that to you?
[ it’s miserable, asking questions he can barely get out, seeking answers he knows he doesn’t want. doesn’t know if kaz will tell him the whole truth anyway. tension races through him, sick with unease. ] I don’t want to stay here. Have Dimitri or Milena pack your things. Surely there are others who can set your affairs in order. We mustn’t wait. Your wounds are not getting better.
[ nikolai’s touch edges from hesitant to purposeful without brushing against wanting, a measured act that seeks something — damage, kaz realises. lucky that’s there none to find, his hand and leg panging beneath their wrappings. the tension elongates nikolai’s neck under his hand, throat bobbing with an unspoken trepidation. has the demon already forgotten their deal? not quite, he decides. ]
No. [ didn’t do more, didn’t kiss him. an answer both quick and firm. kaz is the one at fault for that development, taking the mark at his throat and tongue laving over his palm as signs of wanting. a universal weakness, it seems, unless the demon is unique among its kind, inheriting nikolai’s loneliness. in calculating the risks, kaz maximised his chances of self-preservation. well, he advanced his position on the board. perhaps he also tested a new mode of influence, all while giving into a reckless desire for all of nikolai.
rather than explain that, he cuts other truths loose. ]
You bargained with me. [ a one-fingered, rolling gesture. ] As an intermediary for bargaining with yourself. [ you’re the lever. leaning forward, he sets his hand higher on nikolai’s thigh and squeezes, an attempt at assurance. best not to overdo skin-to-skin taction after all nikolai faced yesterday. ] You threatened me. [ one brow arches. ] Unconvincingly, for what it’s worth. [ just saying. a deep breath, gaze flicking down to their fragile grip. ] And you fed from my hand. [ something nikolai will remember, if he hasn’t already, fixating on his bandaged palm like a waypoint. that flash of brilliant green was him, kaz knows it. he swings his eyes up again, swallowing nikolai’s obvious pain. it’s the least he can do. you’ll only make this worse for him now. saints, he knows that. ]
Because you’re not getting better, either. [ for a moment, his eyes are as clear (and visibly pained) as nikolai’s, but kaz blinks it away. surely, nikolai can’t deny a concern that mirrors his own. ] You’re starving — [ his breath catches, and he admonishes himself for it. ] Dying. And death makes all men desperate. [ almost says mad, but nikolai already knows as much. he continues with striking conviction, ] If you want to leave Ketterdam tomorrow, you need to feed tonight. [ a slight shake of his head. ] You can’t be near anyone else until you do. [ let alone caged with them on a ship for weeks. ] I’d wager that half the reason I’m alive is because I’m the one who fed you before.
[ the demon must remember that. call it animal instincts or a deeper understanding of what kaz brekker will do for his people. no need to mention invoking that blood-soaked memory by tipping his hand willingly into the very jaws that could kill him. ] The other half’s down to your piss-poor taste — which is catching. [ whatever made nikolai tenderly take his hand and supplanted bite with kiss is the same force that animates his recurring nightmares. affection seems generous. attachment could be the word. all synonyms for leverage. ]
[ kaz's answer comes quickly, too firm for nikolai to want to believe it to be a lie. he searches his eyes and finds no cause to question it, then startles when presented with other truths harder to parse through. a bargain. threats. he fed from his hand, just as he suspected, a rush of guilt seeping through the cracks in his chest. but kaz seems no more ill than before, so perhaps the monster did show mercy, a grain of questionable truth in kaz's absurd theory. ]
I'm not dying. That's ridiculous. [ he says it as if stating the weather, sidestepping his deteriorating mental condition. he's always had ups and downs. this is no different. but if he and the beast are inexorably linked now, then starving the thing will only serve to damage his own self. he thinks to his more frequent slips, the lost time, the moments he's sure he's standing in his own body but uncertain of whose thoughts are crowding his mind. at any moment he could once again lose the ability to touch kaz. doesn't even know how or why he has it back.
his gaze swings up again, this time hard, chafing immediately at what sounds like an order. kaz follows it with unwelcome logic before nikolai can protest, his words held on his tongue as he exhales a tense breath instead. his fingers rub gently over kaz's knuckles, his cold hand finally warming marginally beneath nikolai's touch. ]
You said it bargained with you. For what? [ he lifts his chin, leaning back in his chair. ] To be fed, no doubt. That means starving it is working. So let it die, Brekker. [ the chair scrapes against the floor as he stands suddenly, their clasped grip gently slipping away. he turns back to the kitchen and resumes making a mess of the counter — puffs of flour, eggshells cracked and discarded, sugar licked from his thumb — his expression schooled back into one of morning cheer. ] I won't die with it. Do you want some brandy in your coffee?
[ he brings over a bottle and sets it down beside the writing case, flashing a boyish smile. ] We'll bring the chains aboard the ship. Everything will be fine. Let me handle this.
[ incredulity knocks kaz’s mask askew. his mouth falls open and snaps shut in seconds. nikolai is stubborn, foolish and reckless with himself — but the lives of others have always taken precedence over his wants. an act that jeopardises the crew — ]
The same chains that saved my leg from your claws. [ bitten out before he can stop himself, mug rattling the table. his teeth graze his lower lip, a habit that has the unfortunate byproduct of recalling last night’s bloody kiss. kaz ducks his head and scrubs his face, recomposing himself by force. ] I didn’t — [ mean it, but he did, in this instance. his innate temper reacts poorly with nikolai’s contrived cheeriness, like combining two of wylan’s volatile concoctions. he tilts back in his chair and exhales, gripping the lip of the table. strange, to see his pale flesh stark against the wood. ungloved, unguarded. he pulls the robe tighter. ]
That wasn't your fault. [ fixing nikolai with a glare, he drags a hand through his hair hard enough to disturb its clean lines. ] But what do you think this [ gesturing between them. ] is? [ a temporary reprieve. the vital and ever-dwindling time they have to plan their next move. ] A date? [ boozy coffee and homemade breakfast. comforts that make men soft. his heart flutters, but there’s nowhere for it to go. ] No, what do you think happened last night? [ a quick breath. ] That the demon approached me and asked, politely, if I would consider feeding it merchlings. But — not to worry — a little blood, a bite and a kiss were enough to sate it forevermore. [ he splays his hands, mimicking the prestige of a magic trick. either he managed to comfort nikolai too much for the first time in his life, or this is denial as a means of survival. ]
It demanded to be fed, so I bartered for time, Nikolai. [ eyes fierce until he tears them away, looking askance. ] One night of rest. One day of peace. [ for you. kaz hardly slept, plagued by the waters that nearly drowned them; the blood already taken and still to be spilled. he reaches for the brandy and pours the lot in his coffee. ] That’s all this is.
[ in the event they renege this deal, kaz is more worried for nikolai than himself, but he can’t rule out retaliations. no amount of comorbid care in nikolai’s split self will keep the demon from making its displeasure known. the deal is the deal. breaking it begets consequences. ]
[ he's prepared for a rebuttal, ready to keep his stubborn smile in place and argue his way out of whatever foolishness kaz has gotten himself into with his more unsavory half, but he isn't prepared for — that. the sudden swing of the truth, wielded in true kaz brekker form. too quick to anticipate, too sudden, too unexpected. like a thief. he just barely stops himself from flinching. fails to keep the flash of hurt from his eyes.
but it's a well-deserved wounding, perhaps made stronger by the unceasing pain kaz has had to endure since that moment in the cellar. the shroud seems to clear for a moment, a cacophony of violent carnage just out of reach before it goes hazy again, his mind clearing. this hurt is crystalline, bright, sharp as a blade of grisha steel. it's familiar. kaz chafes against these comforts, he knows it, and yet he still endeavors to give them to him in whatever brief moments he can steal away from the constant press of chaos around them. he deserves them, deserves to know what it's like to wake in the morning and not think of death. but maybe he's fumbling this at every turn because he hardly knows the feeling himself. ]
Is it so terrible — [ he exhales softly, his smile pained as if it costs him to keep it there. holding out his cup for kaz to tip the bottle of brandy into his own coffee, ] To pretend for a minute? An hour? You said you bartered for time, so what will you do with it?
[ he looks at him for a moment longer before turning away, flicking a few drops of water into a hot pan and watching them sizzle. presently, the room fills with the aroma of browned sugar as he stacks hot pastries high onto a plate. his appetite has vanished with this conversation, replaced with the dread of knowing he'll have to feed before he boards his ship. merchlings. it's unthinkable that the monster would even suggest such a thing. he doesn't have it in him to inquire on kaz's reaction. he has to believe that kaz knows it's an altogether untenable notion, that nikolai would rather face whatever horrors the monster would inflict upon him than take another life in such a way.
returning to the table feels like a joyless, mechanical task, setting down the blini drizzled with honey and heaped with fresh fruit, but he forces himself to remain calmly composed, unwilling to give in to despair. that’s all this is. a singular day. if the events of last night hadn’t transpired, if the monster hadn’t shown its face and made its demands known, kaz likely wouldn’t have even stayed. but he said he would. nikolai shakes the thought away as a bout of childish whimsy. he is not a child and kaz owes him nothing. not even after what he’d said over the water last night — and what he’d failed to say in return. ]
Stay, if you’d like. But don’t feel as if you must. Not for my sake. [ he perches on the edge of the table and takes a generous swig of coffee, regarding kaz above the rim of his mug. his cheeks are flushed from the heat of the kitchen. ] Do finish that letter, though. If you need me to feed the monster tonight, then I will. But you can’t be in the room. And we’re leaving in the morning.
[ he stands, turns, meaning to walk away. he’s still shirtless, after all, the blood cleaned up but his wounds still bare, and he’s hardly interested in any argument kaz might presently broach, but something makes him turn back around, his glib demeanor replaced with something flinty. the type of rage sitting hot in his chest isn’t the sort for lashing out, instead leaving him weak with a wretched fear as he leans down, his scarred hand pressed flat to the table, his hazel eyes wild with barely contained emotion. ]
Why didn’t you stop it? [ his voice is a hoarse whisper, his brows pulled taut. ] Do you really mean to tell me that of all the times you didn’t have a pistol or a damned blade hidden up your sleeve — that the monster showed up and threatened you and you chose words instead of force? What the hell were you thinking, Brekker? How could you be so fucking reckless? That thing is not me. It’s only a matter of time before it hurts you in a way that you haven’t even thought about. [ an unsteady breath, his eyes burning with anguish — ] You cannot be afraid to hurt me, because it is not afraid to hurt you.
[ nikolai has the right of their circumstances, if not the exact events of the night. the realisation would have unbalanced kaz, were he not seated. how could he be so reckless, so foolish? shame rises white-hot inside him. he let his guard down and for what — love? a one-sided ailment, clouding his judgement. more than anything, he wants to stand and leave, to be left alone after all the rattling closeness endured. a secondary desire scorches his insides: to return the damage. he dampens it as best as he can, eyes fixed on a blank stretch of wall. ]
If it’s not you, then you weren’t there. [ voice suddenly small. he was left to face a grisha demon on his own. his shoulders lift and settle, trying to work through that hateful weakness. there hasn’t been anyone to protect him since jordie’s terminal failure. to hope someone else would undertake that rotten work is worse than naivety — it's damnation. expelling a breath, kaz manges to lift his tone back to its usual scrape. ] What trick could I have up my sleeve? [ a sideways glance, hurt glinting, there and gone. ] In your room, your clothes, your bed. [ those are odds are stacked against him before he accounts for his affliction and aggravated injuries. nikolai told him it was safe to rest, but you’re the pathetic skiv who listened. he drags his thumbnail up his throat, retracing the path taken to his tender bruise. that’s the cost of pretending — of playing at romantic dates like last night and this morning. he wasn’t meant to have these things.
as if in divine punishment for his thoughts (or because he hasn't eaten since before he was violently ill and tapped for blood), his stomach growls. a perfect capper for this ridiculous affair. it belatedly occurs to him that nikolai hasn’t made himself any food after all that trouble. he cuts into his blini, lavish in the way all things nikolai tries to give him are, but only nudges it around his plate. it reminds him of how jordie would always return with hot chocolate, regardless of whether they could afford it. ]
I’m staying. [ he finally tips a meagre splash of brandy into nikolai’s coffee and no more, setting it aside. ] I do need you. [ a statement kaz fights to let hang, multiple meanings held inside it. as clever as he is, he can’t face the demon alone. why would nikolai think, even for a second, that he could? his stomach sinks. because he believes in you. he almost takes nikolai’s hand, his bandaged palm resting beside nikolai’s scarred fingers on the table. it was nikolai who pulled away last — who said he can’t take what kaz has never dared offer to anyone else. that should be the end of his heartsicknesses. ]
Will you join me for breakfast? [ finally, he takes a bite. a difficult to place expression crosses his face, still turned away. another bite, and he turns his head, jaw softening. ] Please. [ steady hands carve another neat square and skewer it, offering it to nikolai. ] I’d like to spend this time with you, without pretending. [ since nikolai asked, even if the question was intended rhetorically. ] To be near you, if you’ll allow it. [ how many times can nikolai reject that particular desire without snuffing it? ] To tend your wounds, as soon as we’re done here. [ his teeth snag the inside of his cheek, skin raw and tingling. ] To keep my promise to share what happened last night, so that we can devise a plan to deal with the fallout together — rather than wait for another of your lodger’s surprise negotiations. [ as lovely as being held down and having jagged fangs at his throat has been, there’s an argument to be made for alternative arrangements. normally, kaz wouldn’t say twice is a pattern, but the familiar ache in his arm from being pinned back and a fresh bruise in the same place marked the first time are difficult data to dismiss, however anecdotal. ] And you?
[ what does nikolai lantsov want? somehow, kaz doubts he has an answer. ]
[ the world seems to stop in that moment, the sunlight and warm coffee and the sweet aroma in the air abruptly turning to ash. there are so few times that kaz allows anyone to see his hurts. they're alike in that way, kaz donning a hard mask while nikolai opts for a soft, more palatable one — but they're masks all the same, armor to hide the truth of what lies beneath. nikolai catches a glimmer of the wound, the tenuous thinning of his voice abraded by fear. and it's worse than any insult kaz could hurl at him, worse than if kaz would have matched his anger with his own and responded with the violence he keeps coiled in his muscles. he may as well have slipped a blade between his ribs.
he sees his mistake now. all of this. the way the sunlight touches kaz's bare skin, unguarded. the way this could be a scene from any of the countless novels he's read, silly fictions from his youth. the way he's built this fabrication of a home when the truth sits just beneath every breath he takes, that he doesn't have one anymore. and he'd brought kaz here with promises he couldn't keep. a single night of rest, of safety. a lie. there are no safe places anymore.
wordlessly, he sinks back down into the seat beside him. tries to think. he said he would make this right. he has to find a way. kaz speaks again, and nikolai looks at him, unsure if it's tender relief or an awful chafing misery he feels at his words. maybe a bit of both. he doesn't know if he should believe them, because it's becoming increasingly clear that kaz would be much better off far away from here — perhaps a part of him would be more lost because of it, but the whole of him would be, at the very least, alive. isn't that what matters? i do need you is simply not true. he only thinks it is. kaz had been better off before he’d ever tended to his wounds on his ship all that time ago. hadn’t he?
nikolai leans forward, ignoring the offered fork, his eyes flickering over the bruise once more. then he rests his forehead against kaz’s shoulder, a heavy sigh going out of him as his eyes slip closed, all his strength threatening to bleed out. for a long, quiet moment he allows himself this, his hands coming up to slide gently along the sharp planes of kaz’s hips, feeling the familiar lines of his body through the fabric of his robe, careful of his wounds. he smells like blood and salt, and after another slow breath, another thought: he smells like the water, which perhaps he resents, but nikolai presses his lips to his collarbone for the briefest of moments, the gentlest of touches, and tastes the sea.
when he pulls back, the boyish softness from his eyes has gone, replaced with the sharp focus of a man who once commanded armies, who held a nation together by ingenuity and the force of his own will. a man familiar with setting aside his own wants, of going without comfort, of remaining separate out of necessity. kaz is a man, and he is a monster, and he would do well to remember that. the grin he offers is the fox’s grin, not the sweet, earnest smile that kaz has pulled out of him so many times before. ]
No more pretending, then. [ not said unkindly, but it’s firm, resolute, as if he’s made up his mind about something without consulting kaz in the process. his demeanor turns serious. ] I put you in danger for my own selfish whims. I will not ask forgiveness for that. I will endeavor to earn it instead. But know that I’m sorry that I left you to face the worst parts of me alone and unarmed.
You said there’s more. So tell me what happened. [ he takes a breath, then draws kaz’s injured leg into his lap, elevating it gently. this isn’t prolonging the fantasy — it’s simply practical. when he settles his hand carefully against his thigh, he’s surprised to find the beat of his pulse less jarring than expected, more like a gentle comfort. ] This time is yours, Brekker. You earned it with your life. I would give you anything you asked.
[ nikolai falls into him, and kaz accommodates the inevitable, necessary collapse without satisfaction. leaning into him is his only means of communicating appreciation and understanding. a slight hitch chases nikolai’s lips brushing his skin. it’s surprising that any tendernesss can penetrate their latest tangle. as foolish as it is, kaz has rarely wanted to kiss nikolai more than now. something that isn’t allowed, after where his mouth has been. shouldn’t be permitted to touch something this good in the first place, and still he does, covering nikolai’s hand on his thigh. a man trapped within his own mind, body out of his control. it’s a miracle that he’s still here, let alone beside kaz brekker. ]
[ mildly, ] I doubt that. [ impossible, that he earned his life back, when he promised things he has no right to offer. improbable, that nikolai would give him anything he asked. having witnessed how the monster feeds and the toll it enacts on his person, kaz sees why nikolai abhors sating it at all. while the slight quirk of kaz’s mouth hints at acceptance, shrewd eyes watch for tells. he hasn’t seen that grin on nikolai’s face since it caught the sunlight on the bow of his ship. the too-clever fox, not to be trusted. ] All I did was dirty my hands. [ in an instant, he has his composure rebalanced on a dagger's edge. his face hardens, jaw set in defiance. ]
It wants to feed every seven days. [ human flesh. a nonstarter that would renew nikolai’s spiralling. his present steadiness may be yet another mask, worn for kaz’s benefit. he reaches out to brush nikolai’s hair behind his ear, keenly aware that another wedge may be driven between them in moments. ] It said it took everything from you. [ his hand falls away. even the key details disclosed thus far must unsettle nikolai, with how they ascribe an independent voice to the demon. ] Your sleep, your clarity in waking life — [ a tight breath. ] Me. [ he lifts his coffee to his mouth and, much to his relief, the brandy burns his throat. ] Every time I glimpsed it before, it tried to push me away from you. I thought it might wish to isolate you… Then I wondered if it could share your desire to protect me through distance. [ he purses his mouth. another sip, and he places the mug on the table gingerly. ] In the cellar, it asked who marked me on the job. [ protective per his theory — or possessive? ] Last night, it had me. [ by the throat, as good as dead. ] But it only left the same bruise as before. [ a faint flush, high in his cheeks. ] And it targeted my hand, where I was already injured. [ to exploit a vulnerability or minimise the damage? his heartbeat ratchets suddenly, the truth locked behind his teeth. ]
It said I was your lever, which would mean I'm also its lever, if used correctly. [ a final hesitation, blinked away. ] The kiss was my hunch. [ an all-or-nothing bet, bloodying his mouth to heighten the offer and the stakes. ] It worked. [ because all it did was kiss and kiss and kiss him. like nikolai. licking the blood from his mouth, teeth sharp and voice serrated. won't offer an apology for inviting this dangerous intimacy. the demon has been weaponising closeness since their first encounter (leaving him paralysed by the tongue at his throat, limbs locked and hand gouged aboard the volkvolny). until yesterday, kaz hadn’t been able to harness that momentum. ] But — [ the wounded noise on nikolai’s lips echoes in his skull. the question he could barely ask lingering since it was stuttered. ] I’m sorry I did that to you, Nikolai. [ there are some secrets even kaz brekker can’t keep. nikolai deserves to know that he's the worst sort of liar and thief, wielding anything he can pick up and carry. ]
[ his gaze softens, affection hopelessly bleeding through. perhaps kaz doesn't fully grasp the magnitude of what he does time and again, dragging him out of the dark, out of the stuff of his nightmares, both waking and not. only zoya has done that for him, been strong enough to shoulder his burdens and stand by his side. it's not something he takes lightly and it's not something he will ever, ever forget. ]
You doubt it because it's the easy way out — [ a quirked brow, a glint in his eye, ] For someone who still hasn't mastered asking for the wants you keep hidden in your heart. [ not to be trusted, indeed. but it's easier — less painful — to think of it in these terms, as a muscle to be stretched and tested than the things he wishes they could have if they were ordinary men. something to be learned instead of something to be given. ] And I don't mean a request for nearness or a shared breakfast. I mean the things you think about when you're alone.
[ he doesn't look away when kaz continues, the easy set of his jaw tightening just slightly as his mind races at the implications of his words. every seven days. he almost laughs aloud at the thought, his fingers rubbing pensively at the morning stubble at his chin. his breath quivers for a brief moment when kaz's careful fingers curl behind his ear. it took everything from you. very nearly so. he touches kaz's bandaged leg, letting his fingers linger. it's unsettling to hear that there's so much shared between kaz and the monster, that it has its own thoughts on kaz brekker, its own feelings and desires. he's just a lever, nothing more. and yet it had kissed him back, that much he's certain of, because of the way he'd woken with the shock of kaz's lips against his. ]
Don't. Don't apologize for it. [ he tilts his head, gesturing to the plate. it'll get cold if kaz doesn't eat, and he needs his strength, having drained his blood into the water, onto the sheets, down the monster's throat — his throat. his stomach turns, and he reaches for the brandy kaz had been rather ungenerous with, pouring a hefty splash into his nearly empty cup. ] I may have a questionable sense of honor, but the monster has none at all. Thinking of me when you're attempting to strategize against it will only serve to hinder you. We both know you're far too clever for that.
[ he reaches into the writing case for a worn, folded map, smoothing it out onto the table, one blackened fingertip tracing a path from ketterdam to djerholm. ] You say it wishes to feed every seven days, but it’s, frankly, highly improbable that we’ll reach a weekly port, considering Kerch is located conveniently in the middle of nowhere. That is to say, impossible. We’ll make several stops — I’ll ask Ehri for passage into Shu Han so we can replenish our supplies, and then we’ll stop several more times along the western coast of Ravka. [ his heart gives an uncomfortable little thump at the thought of seeing zoya again. of course she would come. wouldn’t she? ] So, if we’re seriously considering entertaining this ludicrous request at all, that means we’ll have to store an adorable little family of deer or such ilk in cargo, preferably alive, which is an unambiguously deplorable idea, or we allow the monster the freedom to leave the ship to hunt on its own. Which is the only worse idea than bringing a noisome and foul-smelling farm onto my ship.
That begs the question — [ he looks up again, still parsing through the glut of information about the night prior. the monster left only the same bruises on kaz, exploited an existing injury instead of creating a new one — a courtesy not extended to his own body. if the thing has somehow developed some sort of hateful fondness for brekker, if indeed he’s correct and there is something to be leveraged here… they can hardly afford not to use it. and the thought leaves this rather exquisite brandy turning sour on his tongue. ] If I ignore this hefty demand, what are the consequences? Did it give you an ultimatum? [ he pinches the bridge of his nose, heaving out a sigh. ] You may have to barter again. [ then, softer, regret in his voice, ] Prepared, this time.
[ as nikolai’s focus softens, kaz tenses and holds his gaze. am i your lever? it’s as hard to believe as the words nikolai gifts now, which kaz categorises as well-intentioned but proven untrue. how many things has kaz asked for that nikolai refused to give him? his only request in fjerda had been that nikolai fight to save himself rather than give in to immolation. in his bedroom, he’d asked nikolai to stay after the demon first intruded on them. a righteous desertion, maybe, for what he did to nikolai in ravka. ]
[ arching his brows, ] Careful, Lantsov. [ the things he’s been thinking about on his own may very well have led them here. if nothing else, sharing those desires with nikolai worsened the fractures in the delusion that was holding him together. ] If I repeat my wants, you’ll have to drown yourself in the sink. [ instead of diving into the depths. in all matters related to the demon, nikolai has been forgiven without second thought. in the matter of his twice-fold rejection last night, however — ] I’d hold you under myself, but you’d enjoy it too much. [ his mouth tugs slightly downward, not allowed to express the extent of his displeasure. ]
[ the sun rises higher in the sky, afternoon light washing over them. when nikolai finally answers him, he stills. don’t apologise. a long-held breath escapes him. he keeps himself from saying the instinctive, wanting response, hard not to think of you. kaz thinks of nikolai whether or not he has him in hand, and certainly with his mouth pressed against his, even as every hungry push hit at an unfamiliar angle. he resumes nudging his food around the plate, listening but not looking until nikolai slides the map into his peripheral vision.
despite their miserable circumstances, it’s thrilling to have this part of nikolai back: his brilliant mind set to an impossible puzzle. the stops range from interesting — ehri and her beautiful treasury — to unpleasant — zoya and her thunderous disappointment. a couple bites of his breakfast save him from thoughtless contributions. if it were his decision, kaz would drag nikolai’s dinner on board and sail non-stop to finish this. it isn’t. it can’t be, given the uniquely personal terrors involved (and how reluctant nikolai has been to lift himself out of stagnation to act until now, besides).
at the prospect of scheming, his eyes brighten. his gaze meets nikolai’s once again, assessing his seriousness. after a pause, he shrugs into an off-handed answer. ]
Something about us both dying horribly. [ to be expected of the demon, and of himself, frankly. thieves like him never die peacefully. he speaks slowly, each word measured and selected. ] If you feed tonight, that’s a good-faith offering. Proof you can be swayed — and that I can be trusted. [ strengthening the link between kaz brekker and survival. ] That buys us at least seven days. [ the timing beyond that will prove tricky, especially when they’re reneging the other notable condition of the deal. human flesh. ] The demon wants to be useful — the way it was to you in the war — and, perhaps, not to be alone, but food is the only currency that we know it understands. [ he rests his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the table. ] If we’re withholding it, even out of necessity — we need to sweeten the deal. [ a pointed look seems to hint that he knows nikolai won’t like any of the plans that occur to him. ] Let it feed on me, the way it did last night, until we find a better solution.
[ nikolai will want this to be temporary, if he can stomach it at all. what else does kaz brekker have to offer? a strange closeness? a kind of understanding of the demon’s role? another kiss? all juvenile, compared to a basic need delivered in an appealing fashion. ]
[ there's the matter of last night — well before the unsavory circumstances that took place in his bed — still left untended. a lock nikolai stubbornly picked but couldn't altogether open, drowning in the vastness of what he feels for kaz brekker and now more fearful than before to give voice to the burning pit of need smoldering in a chamber of his heart. he offers a grim sort of half-smile at kaz’s ungracious attempt at a joke — not a joke, not really — willing his heart to cease the anxious battering of his chest. ]
That’s not what I meant. I wanted you to ask for a way in which I could still be useful to you. [ a quiet sigh, as he pulls a hand through his hair and rests his knuckles against his mouth, looking at him steadily. ] I kissed you, rather unwisely, there in the water. [ kaz should remember. then again, he’s not sure what the recollection of the night looks like in kaz’s feverish thoughts, dragged into his worst nightmares once again. guilt sears his lungs like a bitingly cold breath of air. ] I didn’t try to get away from you because of what you said. The demon tried to take over as soon as I touched you. [ with some effort, he relaxes his demeanor, his brow quirking as he swiftly glosses over the obvious — that he might’ve died if kaz hadn’t been able to brave the depths and fish him out. none of it would’ve happened at all if he hadn’t foolishly tried to indulge in his hopeless fantasies again and again. ] Maybe the monster does like you.
[ but still he doesn’t say it, those words that had come spilling out of kaz last night as if contained for too long. can’t or won’t or a combination of both. there’s no sense in pretending anything good can come out of it, no sense in dwelling on something that they’re not meant to have. the monster will take everything. this short reprieve is only because kaz gave it something — a ridiculous promise, sealed in blood. he studies kaz from the corner of his eye, watches him pick at his food and shift his expression as they go through their options. something feels off, still, as if he’s missing a piece of this picture. for all his protests, they can bring livestock onto the ship. they’d have to be careful, come up with a story, limit access to the hold. it would be far from ideal, a messy, gruesome affair, but one that they could, possibly, pull off. and kaz has never been one to balk from a little mess.
nikolai’s gaze sharpens, his mind whirring. dying horribly is as vague as it gets, and he doubts the monster used those words. he listens in silence, trying to pick through what he’s not saying, trying to understand why it isn’t enough to lock nikolai in the cellar of the safe house and toss him some hapless animal to devour in the dark — and then kaz says it, and the sudden truth rushes through him like a current of zoya’s lightning.
he doesn’t want to believe it. doesn’t believe it for a long moment, as silence falls between them with the force of a thunderclap, but no other words come, and nikolai can conjure no other reasonable explanations now that he’s stumbled upon the only one that makes sense. we need to sweeten the deal. why, if they’re giving the monster the same thing that’s always satisfied it until now? because it’s no longer satisfied with creatures from the wilderness. it has always had a taste for human flesh. that’s where this nightmare began all those years ago, and he simply fooled himself into thinking he could escape this unending refrain. ]
It doesn’t want livestock anymore. Does it? [ he pins kaz with a hard gaze, calm only from years of experience with not losing his head every time a part of the sky comes crashing down on him. he lied to you. is it a lie to omit the truth, perhaps to spare his feelings, or more likely because kaz thought he couldn’t handle it? yes. there’s an ocean he leaves unsaid, sudden hurt swimming in his flinty gaze, that kaz would leave him to wonder about any of this when his grasp of these moments is tenuous at best, his memories constantly shifting and ever unreliable. this is why they’re having this conversation at all, that it isn’t just a simple matter of demanding that nikolai feed like a damned dog to keep the monster sated — in true kaz brekker form — why kaz has slowly but surely steered them here, to this end.
he chokes down his ire, his expression splintering to thorns, angry with kaz in this particular way perhaps for the very first time. a feat, considering how maddening he can be. ]
I don’t like to be led. [ his voice low, hard. impossible to keep the tremor out, from rage or fear or hurt, he doesn’t know which. the monster wants humans. that knowledge in itself is shattering. he stands abruptly from the table, careful not to jostle kaz’s leg, unable to stand another moment of this farce. leaving kaz without another word, he returns to his bedroom and tries to wrangle control of his racing thoughts, his eyes falling to the bloodied sheets. without thinking, he begins to strip the bed bare, tossing the soiled linens to the floor. there’s an unbearable pressure in his chest, panic trying to spring free at the brand new thoughts crowding his mind — death, the soft give of flesh, and above all kaz’s lips against his, warm and slick with his blood. ]
[ should have predicted this fight, since it’s been going on for some time. nikolai’s desire to be useful at odds with kaz’s desire not to use him. the explanation only partially contextualises his first rejection (i can’t bear this, left untended). the second denial, in the quiet of the ship, hurt more than the last: a clear-eyed wish to be alone, reinforced by nikolai’s abrupt exit now. he fights his instinct to give chase without question, instead disposing of his picked-at breakfast. once again, kaz has failed to reach nikolai lantsov the way he intended.
i don’t want to be led recurs in his mind. you don’t want to helped he counters to himself. resolve strengthening, kaz stands to tidy the mess nikolai left behind and ignores the pain in his leg. it’s almost grounding, a new constant in his life. or the only one you’ve ever known. in truth, he lacked a grand plan in this conversation, adjusting to the changes of the tide. nikolai refused to feed every seven days, so he cut to an alternative — one that might close the weeks spent aboard the ship for his sake. but you’re kaz brekker, always scheming and plotting, with trick after trick up your sleeve. he should be glad that even nikolai believes the myth. if his lies keep nikolai from applying tenderness to his wounds or trying to kiss him out of obligation (a desire to be useful, not wanted, the way kaz wants and wants wants), it’s for the best. kaz need only urge him to fjerda and then back to ravka, where he belongs, with warmer hands and sweeter mouths to welcome him.
annoyance piqued, kaz abandons his efforts to search for his clothes from last night, finding his own shirt, wrinkled but still wearable, and some trousers of nikolai’s. by the time he drags himself to nikolai’s room, cane thudding all the way, he appears presentable.
when nikolai fails to acknowledge his entrance, still bent over the bed, kaz clears his throat. ]
The way you wish to be useful to me… [ kissing him, touching him, tending his wounds and unlocking the desires kept hidden for so long. he freezes inside the entryway, one hand on the doorframe and the other on his cane. for a long moment, his next words jumble in his mind, and he hangs his head. ] I don’t want that without the rest. [ a hitch in his throat. ] I can’t. [ an unmatched ache and sudden relief collide as he finally says it. having nikolai the way he offers, all while sentiment fills his heart, his lungs, his throat — it’s like drowning. ] I can do anything else. [ he can be the monster or the thing on which it feeds. a resource to be used, clever as the devil. a companion, if nikolai still desires his poison tongue. a little too quick (too desperate), then — ] I’m not going anywhere. [ staying, just not in his arms, in his bed. maybe this will be better for nikolai, too, no longer worrying about how kaz fits, when it’s clear there’s no place for him. ]
For what it’s worth, I’d rather cart an entire farm across the sea than subject you to the demon’s desire for human flesh. [ though he’s loathe to admit it, his omissions make him guilty of the very charges he levelled against nikolai yesterday: lying out of a desire to protect the person he cares for and foolishly facing the thing in the dark on his own. ] But you lead. I’ll follow.
[ wont to disappear without nikolai’s acknowledgment, he waits for a response. ]
[ he expects kaz to go. maybe a part of him wants that hurt once more, an earned punishment for everything he and the monster have put kaz through. his failures are stacked to the heavens at this point, and his anger has nowhere to go. kaz hid this for a reason — he can already feel the tremors in his fingertips, the ashen memories of all that took place in ravka. a king, trusted and beloved no longer, turning on his people. he buried this deep upon coming here, filling his days with other preoccupations, masquerading as a man on his way to some sort of atonement. but there is no forgiveness for a thing like this, just like dominik’s death, just like his crimes during the war, just like what the monster might do to kaz if he allows it to feed on him as he suggests.
kaz appears in the doorway then — not gone, keeping his promise — and a gristly image superimposes atop his form. bloodsoaked, his skin whiter than a ghost, eyes empty. not the demon’s doing, just nikolai’s imagination running towards the worst possible end. he shuts his eyes, a visible tremor going through him as he recoils, his fingers tightening as he yanks the goose down pillows from the bed and adds them to the bloodied heap on the floor.
kaz speaks before he can tell him to leave, nikolai’s spine stiffening as if he wants to turn and go to him. the ache in his words is palpable, the hitch in his breath sending a painful pang through nikolai’s chest. the same pressure from the night before builds now, the urge to say something right, to tell him the truth of what grows inside of him. tell him you love him. he sags suddenly, his hands splayed on the bare mattress, stark black against soft white. ]
You must think I don’t want this. Us. [ he despises the weakness in his voice, the way it’s kaz who has been left time and time again to face the horrors of the monster alone while nikolai can’t get these simple words out. ] You. [ he’s silent again, his heart trying to escape his chest, fingers slowly curling into the mattress. what if he does feed and this compromise is not enough? what if the monster takes back what it thinks it’s owed — everything — and he finds he can no longer touch kaz until he gives in and takes a human life? then he will have squandered this time away for nothing, time he’s not sure will ever come again — just like those days in os alta, watching kaz like a phantom, a slow disappearing act right before his eyes.
he bridges the distance then, looking every bit a madman — still shirtless, his wounds only half tended to, unkempt hair falling into his wild eyes. he sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he’s crossed miles instead of a few steps, staring at kaz balanced in his doorway. there’s no hesitation when he reaches out this time, his hands cradling his face so he can look into his eyes, the rush of anguish that fills his chest entirely his own. ]
Do you think that I can do anything with you and not feel the rest? [ he doesn’t want the answer. he knows he placed those doubts in kaz’s head himself despite wanting so badly to guard his heart. ] That I could ever touch you, kiss you, look at you and not feel — [ his fingers slide down the sharp planes of his cheeks, caressing the lines of his jaw. one hand ghosts to his throat, his hand stilling over the dark bruise. he tilts kaz’s jaw up and leans in, his lips suddenly ghosting over his mottled skin. ] That I could somehow divorce touch and the depth of what I feel for you — Kaz, even if the monster never let me touch you again, if it was the only one that ever got close enough to feel you, I would never stop feeling this way for you. And I would never want to.
[ he can’t get close enough, pressing kaz’s spine to the doorframe, distantly hearing his cane thud carelessly to the floor. one arm winds around his waist, bracing kaz against him as his mouth finds his for a desperate kiss, having ached for this for so long that he can barely hold himself back. ]
You can’t tell me to lead. [ his fingers tremble as they card through kaz’s dark hair and come to rest at his cheek once more, words dropping to a whisper between kisses. ] Because if it were up to me I would say to hell with all of this. I don’t care what’s coming for me. I would board my ship with you and show you the entire world and never come back. And I would love you with all the days that I have left. [ he laughs suddenly, a soft, aching sound as he presses his face to kaz’s hair to give him a moment to breathe, a moment to pull away if he needs to. ] You can’t tell me you’d follow such madness.
[ nikolai droops as if all his strings have been cut, and kaz tightens his grip on the doorframe. can’t go to him, if he means what he says. can’t hold him, can’t kiss him, can only wait. his mind narrows to the point where his fingers meet the wood. nikolai’s voice barely carries across the room, but the very sound of it makes him step forward. there is no worthy answer to his observation. you don’t want me enough, a childish clarification when it amounts to the same thing: mismatched desires. the silence that follows scrapes his insides, cutting up his throat. that’s it, then. it’s done. it’s finally over.
until nikolai looks at him, eyes blazing without a speck of black to mar them. old instincts straighten kaz’s spine, jaw angled up for a fight. his fingers curl into fist, balanced against the doorframe. the hands on his face knock every thought off its track. a flicker of hurt escapes the crack in his wary mask. he forces himself to take a long breath, hand lifting from the door to nikolai’s forearm, unsure whether he intends to guide it away or hold it there. the distress crumpling nikolai’s features stalls any action. where would he go, when nikolai is here?
as nikolai mouths over his bruise, guilt and relief sear down his spine. hard to say what touch feels like for others, when it remains inherently overwhelming for kaz, imbued with meaning. there is no touch without risk (and its corollary, trust). no taction short of devastating (galvanising). nikolai’s words — the depth of what i feel you — prove just as rattling, the answer to the question he’s been asking since novyi zem. no, since nikolai kissed him in the captain’s quarters, as if he were a desirable thing. his words are a revelation with the force of a crashing wave, kaz, not brekker. nikolai has been closer than anyone (only the demon nips at his heels). a truth he seems to acknowledge without nudging him towards alternative hopes, for a change.
he drops his cane, but only realises it from the clatter against the floor. can’t help but think about how foolish that is — to drop his only weapon and support so that he can thread a hand into nikolai’s hair and throw an arm around his shoulders, to keep him there, kissing him breathless. there are no safe places, including here, in these arms. it’s easier to scold himself for that than face the words tumbling from nikolai’s perfect mouth. i would love you ringing, hallucination made real. that laugh in his ear — he tips his head back against the frame, angle harsh enough that he can see with his eyes half-closed. silent, invisible calculations in his head. ]
[ quiet, then. ] Are you hoping I’ll say no? [ another trap in which kaz brekker provides the escape, free of charge. no one but nikolai would recognise the unease tucked in the tick of his voice. kaz pushes through it. ] You won’t lead. You won’t be led. [ he drags a hand down nikolai’s collar, just shy of his fresh wounds, and then reverses course to cup his cheek. ] What am I supposed to do with you? [ besides this, tugging him in for a resurgent kiss and then another, fingers twisting into the short hair at the nape of his neck. ] You’ve been mad from the start. [ touching the bastard of the barrel after a dust-up, as if that’s the done thing. he closes his eyes and catches his breath, quieting the crackle of intimacy and lingering confessions. ]
I’d keep a hand on the wheel. You know that. [ can’t give over control completely, always angling and ever ready for the tide to change. it’s not quite an answer, but then nikolai didn’t ask a question. eyes opening, he tips his head forward. ] Does that sound like madness?
[ it's impossible to say what he's hoping for, so many hopeless wants tangled up like briars in his head. he wants to exist apart from the madness creeping at the edges of his mind, for there to only be the warmth of kaz's mouth, the rock salt rasp of his voice, the experimental touch of his pale fingers as they twine into his hair and brush down his cheeks. all anchors he can hold onto, things to keep him here when the dark tries to pull him under. but they're past that now. the demon has a voice. it's chosen some part of kaz as its own anchor, its claws deep in kaz's flesh with no intention of letting go. nikolai knows that cutting both tethers is the only answer now, the demon's and his own, leaving kaz alone once more after everything.
he can't. not now. but looking at him now, sleepless and shadowed, the stench of blood still clinging to this room, he knows that allowing the demon to prey on him can only be a fleeting solution. once only. he lifts a finger and traces the pad his thumb beneath kaz's eye, his fingertip barely brushing the bottom of his dark lashes. after this voyage, after they reach fjerda, he can't rule out a painful untethering. not when he can't guarantee that a more permanent answer will ever present itself after all.
but of this he says nothing, because there are other promises he needs to extract first. he tugs kaz from the doorframe, mindful of the time he’s spent standing, their lips meeting in slow harmony as he guides him into the room. stripping the bed all for a little blood now feels a touch foolish, the mattress bare and uninviting, so he brings kaz to the floor instead, lowered into a mountain of pillows and sheets he’d thrown down in his discomfited tantrum. he can hardly bring himself to take a breath for want of kissing him, his eyes fluttering open to slide a pillow beneath kaz’s knee before he’s concentrated on his mouth again, hand cradling his cheek as he braces kaz gently against the side of the bed, leaning in like he’ll never be able to get close enough. ]
I trust you. [ to keep a hand on the wheel. he’ll need to, when nikolai is buried deep inside himself and unable to be his safety in the way he’s always endeavored. the kiss breaks, but he doesn’t move away, his eyes shuttered. it’s easier this way when he knows what he’s going to ask won’t be met with enthusiasm. his fingers glide slowly down kaz’s cheek, coming to rest at the curve of his throat, his thumb brushing over his bruised skin. ] But you have to make me a promise. Promise that you’ll defend yourself in any means necessary. That you won’t hesitate just because this thing is in my body, wearing my face. Swear it to me. [ he finally pulls back, taking kaz’s bandaged hand and pressing it to his heart, the wounds at his chest stinging beneath kaz’s fingers. ] Swear to me that I won’t wake up to find your body robbed of life by the monster. I would rather die. Swear that you’ll kill me first.
[ his hazel eyes are clear, steady. the only regret he feels is that he knows these demands are too great a burden to place upon anyone, that these words will sit like a serrated blade in kaz’s lungs each time he takes a breath. kaz will not forgive him, if it ever comes to this brutal end, but there are many crimes nikolai knows he’ll never earn forgiveness for. he doesn’t look away, gaze fixed on kaz’s eyes, bright sapphire only made more piercing with pain. ]
I will not kill for the monster. [ he’s done it enough, so many times that he’ll never be able to put a number to the lives he’s taken or absolve himself of this sin. he won’t add to it. ] And I will not feed from you unless you agree to my terms. This is not a barter.
[ part of this feels like a trap, that nikolai — that the gods or saints or fate would never let him have this and keep it. nikolai won’t stay, certainly. because everyone always leaves. still, it’s difficult to hold that fear at the forefront of his mind with nikolai guiding him elsewhere, all blistering tenderness. nikolai leads him to sit comfortably, takes aching care of his bad leg, and never leaves him bereft of his mouth for long. i trust you is the jewel of this crown. something he wanted to hear. something that shouldn’t be said to kaz brekker. having faith in a bastard and thief can only end one way.
another time, he might unpick how nikolai sometimes speaks of the demon as part of him, while others, he refers to it as wholly separate. can barely focus on thoughts splintering from the present, with how nikolai drags him to a potential future. this is what he trusts you to do. his own pulse thuds in his ears, accelerated and magnified by nikolai’s heart beating beneath his palm. his other hand cradles nikolai’s skull, tugging it forward. ]
[ in a whisper made harsh by the gravel in his throat, ] I know. [ nikolai would rather die than kill again. if it came down to him or nikolai, any unselfish gambit would doom them both. he tilts his head until their foreheads press together, blue eyes more alert than they’ve been all morning. ] I swear, Nikolai. If it comes to that, I’ll kill you first. [ that scenario plays out against his will: nikolai’s teeth at his throat, the knife in his hand, his body suddenly limp against him. he wants to beg for an alternative, any promise that won’t send him hurtling back to the start — no, further along the winding path he took to power. ] The deal is the deal. [ ground out, despite every protest in his heart. a kiss seals it, hard and desperate. his memory of last night's ploy refracts in the afternoon sun. it won’t end that way, he reminds himself. if the demon wanted to kill him, it would have seized the opportunity to do so before now. it might yet kill someone else, dissatisfied with kaz’s offering. he'll have to force it to understand. bloodshed all but guarantees its end. and kaz brekker, untrustworthy and fractious as he is, can repay what’s been lost. his lips brush nikolai’s cheek, suddenly chaste. ]
Go get the kit. Can't have a scratch ending you before all that. [ less vitally, it allows him time to re-arrange all the trembling thoughts in his mind. if it comes down to him or nikolai, he can make the call (the kill). it’d be no different from his life up to this point. better to view everything he’s had in the last year as the exception and not the rule. he tidies his hair, though he suspects (hopes) nikolai will dishevel it again. ] You didn’t answer me earlier. [ at breakfast. once he has the kit in hand, he’s quick to dab at nikolai’s wounds without warning, the burn of disinfectant chasing his nimble fingers. ] Is this all you want today? [ from there, he unwinds the bandages and jerks his head to call nikolai closer. his good leg bends to leverage himself straighter, so he can wrap the crimson cuts on nikolai’s chest. ] And tonight?
[ a murkier concept. his gaze meets nikolai’s before returning to his work, movements precise. ]
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breakfast in bed
suddenly, the air changes. the sea changes. a chill shivers through him. his stomach lurches, a ship pitching over a great wave, and kaz wakes with a start. an alarmed sound catches in his throat as black eyes glitter like broken glass, kaleidoscopic in his blurred vision. his stare slices down the person beside him. a dream. his throat constricts. golden hair falls in nikolai’s face, moonlight gilding his browbone, eyes black as an eclipse. a nightmare.
as if to counter his pulse taking flight under nikolai’s bare grip, his bandaged hand encircles his wrist. the other slides beneath the pillow still cradling his skull in search of the dagger kept in his bed. only succeeds in brushing another pillow, beaded with an intricate pattern that he doesn’t recognise. breathe, jordie reminds him. he isn’t drowning, after all, just thrown into the canal. kaz fights to contain the panic stirring low in his gut. for the first time since the ice court, he has no tricks up his sleeve. swathed in nikolai’s fine clothes and blankets, there’s no armour to protect him, no back-up in place or plan to spare. all stunning proof of his foolishness. his leg pangs painfully enough that either genya’s tea has worn off or the wound recognises its creator. even so, kaz remains still. that's how you're meant to face an animal. ]
And here I was, [ voice rough with sleep and taut with nerves. ] planning our next date.
[ you know this nikolai, too. perhaps better than nikolai himself, since he’s unafraid to meet its eyes. his thumb drags over the veins in nikolai’s wrist, wondering whether blood or shadow might spill if he jammed his nail into the skin. no sense in starting a fight he’ll surely lose, of course. despite the rising waterline, nikolai’s pulse persists, proof of life. it doesn’t want you dead, he reminds himself at the same moment the nikolai of his memory warns, it wants to be the one to break you. perhaps it’s convenient that he’s already rather broken, after the events of the day. ]
[ gaze sharp on nikolai’s uncanny other, ] Have you been awake long? [ a neutral opener, since all he has to defend himself is his clever tongue (and that particular weapon is double-edged). nikolai and the demon have been wrenching control from one another more frequently than in the past, when either one might steer their person for an extended period. but is their newfound fluidity in play because nikolai has grown stronger — or is it the demon gaining ground? regardless, the interruptions (whether nikolai’s concern and the demon’s own bloodthirsty impulses) have prevented kaz from engaging in any illuminating conversations until now. that the demon is here, not out feeding, signals something. a lever, albeit one he may regret pulling. ]
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ignoring the question, ] You’ve missed this, haven’t you?
[ touch. nikolai’s hands skate over the silken fabric of kaz’s borrowed shirt, giving a sharp tug to tear the buttons loose — familiar fingers, but wielded with a carelessness nikolai wouldn’t use. his mouth latches onto kaz’s throat hard enough to bruise but a step removed from drawing blood, a growl rumbling through his chest. ]
You’ve lain awake at night, wanting him. Wishing he would touch you. [ the voice that comes from nikolai’s mouth is smooth as polished quartz, like slipping beneath the cold, still water, immobilizing. no traces of warmth or joy, only a rigid sort of desire and gaping hunger. his tongue soothes over reddened flesh, licking at kaz’s pulse. ] I could cut the words out of him. I love you. Those words, and everything else he’s hiding from you, all the other things he refuses to say because you’re weak.
[ in an instant he has kaz’s bandaged hand cradled against his mouth, lips pressed to his palm as he inhales deeply of the scent of blood. his teeth sink into the linen fabric, tearing away the dressings to reveal the jagged gash cutting across his skin, his thumb digging into the edge of the wound until fresh blood pricks in the dim light. nikolai goes still, his breath short, shadows dancing across his angled features. for a brief moment, the pervasive blackness in his eyes ripple with something more, a flash of green-gold lost in its depths. ]
I’ve taken his nights and plagued them with horrors. So he chooses not to sleep at all. [ his voice grows brittle, breath hot against kaz’s hand as he hovers close to the red glistening at his palm. ] I’ve plunged his mind into confusion and chaos and still he walks about half blinded by the dark as if nothing is wrong. I take away his ability to touch you — and it’s only you — and still he doesn’t —
[ his control seems to falter, a growl rising in his throat as he crowds kaz once more, his knee digging hard into his bandaged ribs, wrist pinned to the bed frame. ] You’re the lever I need to pull. For freedom. For fresh blood. We coexisted once, but he needed my strength to win his war. I was useful then, another weapon in his arsenal, a problem he couldn’t solve but could adapt to his needs when all of his walls were closing in. But now he’s fracturing beneath the weight of his regrets, only he doesn’t have the luxury to fall apart. There are two of us, and I can’t go this long without sustenance.
So you — [ finally, his tongue laps at his palm, blood smearing across his mouth. the care he takes with his wound is almost tender, threats briefly forgotten when the salty taste floods his deprived senses, easing the pressure on kaz’s ribs. ] Will convince him to provide for my needs. Every seven days, I feed. Or — [ a flash of taloned fingers rake across nikolai’s own throat, his shirt suddenly soaking with blood from two neat lines running sharply along his collarbone. ] It doesn’t matter what I do to him, you know. You already know his desire for life is as strong as the flame of a dying candle. But your desire to see him live burns much more brightly, doesn’t it? So do what you do best. Strike a deal. The alternative is that he starves me anyway and I give him the death he’s craved all along. And you — [ his tongue presses to his palm again, eyes glittering darkly through the fall of pale hair. ] Go untouched and unloved until you die miserable and alone.
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his hand finds purchase on nikolai’s shoulder, not so foolish as to shove him off. instead, kaz tries to anticipate his movements. the ripple of muscle before nikolai opens his collar. the shift of his weight that forewarns it sinking against him, heavy as a corpse. kaz digs his nails into nikolai’s back, like he’s the only thing keeping them afloat. it’s cold here, colder than the sea had been, icy like the harbour. no choice but to bury a wounded sound in the crown of nikolai’s head, as he — it soothes the very bruise it created. never strays from his pulse, from the thing it wants. a lever is a lever. ]
[ with a breathy scoff, ] Nothing quite as flattering as a forced confession, is there. [ a true dismissal of affection extracted by coercion or cruelty, which has never appealed to him. an attempt at smoothing his composure with his customary dryness, too. it might be convincing, if not for the tremors running through his person, rattling apart in nikolai’s hold. weak, like the way he needs to bite the inside of his cheek until he draws blood to stop any humiliating cry from sounding as nikolai carves his wound wider. on instinct, he tries to twist his palm away from nikolai’s teeth, glinting in the light as the bandages fall away.
for a second, he — it hesitates, expression giving, a familiar warmth haunting its abyssal eyes. its control has been fractured by nikolai’s inner strength and its own yawning hunger. desperation animates its actions and its restraint, stalled above his wound, not yet taking. kaz notes every word, each fact the demon imparts, and resists thoughts of nikolai (hopefully sunken too deep to witness this himself). only you. you’re the lever. in all his cleverness, kaz hadn’t realised the extent to which that could be true for all aspects of nikolai lantsov. at least, not until his other begins drinking from his hand, cradled like a breakable, precious thing. careful, or at least intentional, in how it handles him, and careless with itself, just the same as nikolai. as he bloodies himself (itself, nikolai), kaz’s breath catches, only to even into shallow huffs.
untouched and unloved, as if he hasn’t always been this way, apart from those fleeting moments. before he drowned. before nikolai decided he wasn’t worth the risk. still, his desire to see nikolai live outmatches all others. ]
Everyone dies alone. [ surety there, underwriting his words with steel. no mourners, no funerals. contrary to every instinct, he tips his still-bleeding hand to nikolai’s mouth. an offering, exchanged so that the slackening it causes in nikolai will allow him to wind his other arm forward again. a roll of his shoulder soothes the pained muscle. ] But now that Nikolai has shut you out, you exist in isolation. [ eyes flinty, kaz cards a hand through the hair falling in nikolai’s face, studying the spiderwebbing shadows that cut through his freckles. ] Only you live this way, observing all who love him from a distance. You. [ a short, dark laugh. ] Created by someone who wanted love so desperately they would suffer eternally for it, [ martyrdom ensuring pigeons across ravka might know his wretched name. pathetic. ] and bound to someone who shares that flaw, except he knows how to treat it. [ by welcoming all he meets into his light. ] Nikolai would kill himself and you in a heartbeat. I’m all you have. [ an echo: if you die, he dies. without waiting for a response, kaz knocks nikolai’s knee aside, leveraging off the headboard to reverse their positions and knock his offending arm back. it’s more about the act of rebellion than escape, which is an impossibility, one wrist still caught in nikolai’s iron grip. ]
[ tsking — ] None of that now, if you want my cooperation. [ he jerks his head, sweat-slick hair flicked aside to reveal his razored jaw. ] Tonight, you’ll ensure he rests, unbothered by your nightmares. You’ll let me wake him, touch him, and convince him to try sating you. And if you behave — as a gesture of good faith, I’ll feed you tomorrow night. [ this time, he bites his cheek again to distract from the blossoming pain in his leg, worsened at this angle, weighing down nikolai’s limbs for show. or perhaps he draws blood as a precursor to dipping his head low, mouth red and eyes wild. dirtyhands can handle this even if he can’t. ] We’ll negotiate from there.
[ as if to secure their deal, kaz kisses nikolai — or the thing that’s both nikolai and not — mouth full of copper. a monster need not fear its kind. ]
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Fine. [ muttered darkly, lost in the slick warmth of the kiss. where nikolai ends and the monster begins has long since blurred, it and him now one and the same, desire for flesh and blood and desire for kaz brekker no longer parallel lines in the sand. they bleed together into the same fervent want, to rip him open, to handle him gently, to kiss and kiss and kiss him so that the taste of his blood will always be on his lips. ] Human flesh. Not animal.
[ a single condition, perhaps something kaz will refuse to negotiate, but a creature like him isn’t meant to feed on soulless beings. the promise of food — and the memory of this — is enough to sate him for now. the monster slinks back and nikolai drifts to shore, a slow resurfacing but no less violent, thrown into a metallic kiss he has no memory of beginning. but even through his rising panic, he would recognize the shape of kaz’s mouth anywhere, the weight of his body against his own, the familiar scent of leather and rain. a comfort, if not for the blood flooding his senses — in his mouth, on his clothes, filling the air. a sound like a whimper escapes his throat, the kiss broken, his brow tight and eyes unfocused as he struggles briefly, his hand closing around a fistful of kaz’s rumpled shirt. ]
What have I — [ tension makes his words brittle, fear closing his throat while nausea shudders through him, blood sour on his tongue. he turns his head away, giving a half-hearted buck of his hips in an attempt to dislodge kaz, but it does little, the strength having left his body even as control returns to him, familiar tremors taking hold of him instead. the not knowing is always the worst — what he might have done, the sort of hurts he might have inflicted, who he might have killed. it paralyzes him now, his breath jagged, crushed with shame. as much as he wants to be away in this moment — as much as he wants kaz far away from him, safe that way — he paws at him with trembling fingers, clinging to him while the harrowing memory of blood and snow crashes through him.
remember who you are. a desperate litany. pain blooms at his collar as he forces his wild gaze back to kaz, taking in the red streaked across his mouth and his shirt torn open, the blossom of a heavy bruise at his throat. without thinking, his scarred fingers reach up to trace the sweat-slick, mottled skin, the wild flutter of his pulse beneath. in the back of his mind something takes flight. they’re touching. ]
Tell me. [ a whisper, his voice quivering. ] Tell me what I did to you.
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dirtyhands wouldn’t flinch, so kaz doesn’t. his grip tightens, he presses closer — and he hears that whimper. knows the sound, with how it shattered his plans and composure back in the cellar. the recognition helps him click back into the person he is with nikolai, more kaz than brekker. it makes him pack away his ruthless determination and unease, tidied and set aside. unmoving, he hovers above nikolai until the disorientation passes. awe stretches his features wider before he can stop it, the flush climbing his throat the only warmth left from being so close to the demon and the depths. but you did it, dragged nikolai back from the underworld once more, whether he wished to return or not. ]
You didn’t hurt me — [ but that would be smudging the truth, when nikolai opened his skin wider and lapped at the wound. kaz shakes his head quick, hair falling back in his face. ] Not really. [ better. kaz folds his uninjured hand over nikolai’s, pressing his palm to his pulse. his heart hammers like it has to prove he’s alive. they’re touching. ] It’s okay. We’re okay. [ unsure who needs to hear that more, a wobble in the arm propping him up. they’re okay for now, he should say, until nikolai throws him away for all he’s already done or what he’ll gladly do. ]
You barely — [ touched him, but it did, mouth feverish at his throat, drinking from his palm and trailing ice across his chest. ] Just here. [ his thumb arcs over nikolai’s wrist, still held to his his throat. ] Here. [ kaz guides his hand into the uneven v of his shirt, unharmed but touched. can’t say what nikolai will make of this, places his hands and mouth have travelled before — but not without his knowledge, his gentle intentions. is it a betrayal to take all the parts of nikolai, even the ones he rejects? ] My other hand. [ curled so tightly in the sheets beside nikolai’s head that they’ve sprung untucked from beneath the mattress. ] Because of the blood. [ telling enough, he hopes, to avoid the truths that will do the most harm. ] There’s too much of you in it now to hurt me badly.
[ an idea nikolai will undoubtedly scoff at, though kaz’s generally unharmed person must be equally unsettling in its impossibility. ]
[ voice low and scratchy, ] You hurt yourself. [ his gaze flits from nikolai’s frightened eyes to his red mouth, then down to his bloodied front, unsure what his own, ever-shifting and masking expression might give away. ] Let me clean you up and explain the rest. [ after the demon releases him, nikolai tends to collapse, the bodily exhaustion of possession or transformation too much, so he adds — ] Now or in the morning. [ kaz brings their linked hands to his mouth, brushing a kiss over nikolai’s knuckles. his words fail to answer nikolai fully, let alone explain how he ended up pinned beneath kaz’s weight, licking blood off the back of his teeth. ] Whatever you decide, that's what we'll do.
[ careful to return the control that the nichevo'ya so violently strips from him when it surfaces. he needs to metre out the truth to keep nikolai from drowning in it, not withhold it indefinitely. ]
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it rattles him to think on this brand new way to hurt kaz — worse than the threats of before, because if anyone can take a beating, it's kaz brekker, but the language of intimacy is largely unexplored territory, and has kaz spared a thought to what might happen if he loses himself to the waters and the monster decides not to stop? touching him, bruising him, kissing him. nikolai doesn't believe for a moment that there's enough of him in the beast that it will suddenly exhibit the highly specific sort of care that kaz requires, the constant mindfulness and consideration of where his head might be at any given moment — a care that he's happy to give. that kaz allows him now to touch him so freely and frequently isn't something he takes for granted, not when he remembers intimately how much he suffered at the start for it — and even now kaz could slip and he could lose him at any time, thrown back to the grueling start.
but nikolai already knows that kaz would take it as a slight to hear any of this. he would think himself weak for it — that nikolai thinks him weak, when it couldn't be further from the truth. kaz finds this sort of concern unpalatable, but nikolai can't help the way he worries, especially now when he knows his monster could break kaz in such new, irrevocable ways. perhaps he's right and the monster wouldn't kill him, but death might be kinder. and nikolai certainly would never forgive himself.
his doomsaying is interrupted by a wave of brittle exhaustion, suddenly glad to be abed with the way his limbs go weak and his vision blurs. he has only a vague awareness of his wounds, the gashes along his collar throbbing dully, but kaz brings attention to his hand and he realizes the dressings have come undone, blood soaking into the sheets from his tense grip. there’s too much of it all around him, an overpowering and pervasive scent that he wishes wasn’t so familiar. because of the blood. there’s something missing but he doesn’t have the energy to parse out what, cradling kaz’s cheek with one hand and sliding the other along his spine, pushing at the small of his back to maneuver kaz down to his side to ease what must be tremendous pressure from his leg. ]
I don’t think you understand — [ with the last bit of his strength, he tears at the hem of his own shirt, crudely wrapping the strip of cloth around kaz’s palm. ] How bad this is. [ there could be more — there is more on the tip of his tongue, but he’s swiftly losing steam, thoughts jumbled and nonsensical, and what does kaz mean by explain the rest? it sets off every alarm bell, just like the way that he can touch him now without the mental assault of carnage has him equal parts grateful and apprehensive.
or perhaps his gratitude outweighs the other, with the way he leans in to seek his closeness after too long apart, fingers careful as they glide beneath kaz’s shirt to travel down the notches of his spine, then slowly up once more, reminding himself that they’re both relatively whole even if nothing else seems to be going right. he wants nothing more than to stay in this moment, but the darkness comes rushing back — not the monster, but the sudden weight of days (months, years) of lost rest catching up to him, his breath heavy. his fingers curl at kaz’s hip, startled as he brushes his bandages, then smoothing gently over them. ]
Stay with me. [ different from all the times he’s asked this very same thing of kaz, not an appeal to draw him back from the waters but to keep his own head above the sealine. if he wakes and kaz is gone, having decided to be done with this bloody work, cutting the only tether keeping him afloat — ] Please. [ there’s too much evidence of his dwindling sanity here, his drafting table looking like a madman’s workshop, his nonsensical scrawl across all surfaces detailing equations and bloodshed alike. he longs for the perverse familiarity of his shackles, his wounds bleeding onto kaz’s skin as his slick mouth presses to kaz’s ear. ] I’ll do better. I’ll make this right.
[ if only he could figure out the trick of making kaz brekker stay. it’s the last thought he has before falling into a rare dreamless sleep, his breathing deep and even for the first time in what feels like a lifetime — certainly since this nightmare began. ]
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We both will. [ it’s no longer something nikolai can manage alone, both because of the demon’s strength and the thorny territory kaz has already traversed. can’t turn back now. he reaches across nikolai’s bloody chest, as if to hold him together, and feels panicked huffs smooth into deep drags. the demon’s terms already fulfilled. a temporary reprieve, undoubtedly, but that’s all kaz brekker needs to think. nikolai may prefer a perfect solution, but kaz has never had the luxury of overlooking a messy interim fix. even shaking and bloodied, he has nikolai closer than he did before — his condition improved, if only marginally. without meaning to do so, he drifts off after nikolai.
perhaps predictably, kaz wakes first, nikolai’s blood dried on his cheek. the rise and fall of nikolai’s chest proves steady, the rhythm of it drowning out the waves (though his limbs are heavy with rot, flesh distending wetly). he extricates himself carefully, like the thief he is, and surveys the damage, touching and not touching, memorising every ridge and valley of nikolai at peace. eventually, with the first slats of light filtering through the curtains, kaz ventures to nikolai’s bathroom to clean himself up — wiping the blood from his mouth and towelling it from his hair. lingering there, he examines the latest mark made by nikolai unknowingly, purpling his skin just below the thin rope of scar tissue lining the hinge of his jaw. the claw marks on his chest from their first intimate encounter have scarred over, which nikolai will surely hate. he already visibly aches when he touches evidence of hurts from the time before him, after all.
the gifted clothes are unsalvageable, so kaz chucks them out, borrowing a gaudy robe until he can scout nikolai’s collection or send for his own things. in the organised chaos, it takes time to find supplies to tend nikolai’s wounds and organise them according to their need. first, kaz re-wraps his hand, ensuring the widened gash looks no bigger than it did before nikolai pried it open and drank from it. (human flesh). a sudden thought: there are fresh corpses in ketterdam every day. just as swiftly, nausea crashes over him and nearly drags him under, eyes unfocused until they meet their match in the mirror, hands clenched against the counter. nikolai won’t be able to stomach that. his glare hardens. and you will?
a peak into the bedroom confirms nikolai rests despite the muted thuds of his cane. kaz noses around the room and gathers clues to his mental state, as if deteriorating requires greater specificity. he then expands his silent search to the living area, re-examining the notebook where nikolai records his nightmares and mad desires. it still astounds him, to find his name written again and again. as much as kaz has built a reputation on being the exception, it remains perplexing to be singled out by someone like nikolai lantsov. if nikolai indeed wants him and the demon wants to ruin him, consume him, kill him in rather vivid scenarios, that could be channelled in the same direction. with difficulty. the dark side of nikolai preferring him certainly makes more sense than the light he’s come to rest within.
while he doesn’t disturb the mess of nikolai’s room, he tidies the kitchen for want of something to do with his hands. a lock to pick, a deck to shuffle, accounts to settle. anything to help him arrange his thoughts. nikolai will have to be told the truth, both because it benefits them to collaborate on a plan and because there’s a chance nikolai will remember it on his own. once the counter’s clear, kaz leans against it, cane tucked under his arm. the pain has returned in full, the tension in his body impossible to unwind. yet he fails to comprehend how uneasy he is until he hears movement in the bedroom and his aching legs move without thought. a flash of another time they parted — nikolai bursting through the window aboard the ship — and he stumbles on his bad leg, catching himself on the bedroom doorframe. ]
Nikolai?
no subject
kaz. memories crash over him like a tide, the taste of blood springing to his tongue. his clothes are stained with it, neat lines across his collarbone tender where his own claws left their marks. he pushes the covers aside, suddenly wanting to be away from this grisly scene — a place a crime was committed, where he’d touched kaz without caution or reason, where he’d opened his wounds again and might have done worse had kaz not — what? what had kaz done? there’s something he’s missing, and he feels unmoored with that knowledge now, like a desperate man on his last leg, ready to tear the final rusted hinges off the only door still keeping him sane.
something bubbles up from deep within. kaz said he would stay. hadn’t he? he’d as good as promised. nikolai asked when he’s loathe to ask for anything, when the only time he’s willing to beg is for the salvation of his country, and even then he was met with rejection at every turn. it’s not something one forgets. he thinks the sound coming out of him might be a sob or the demon trying to take control again, but it’s neither. he’s standing beside his bed in his bloodied clothes and he’s laughing, uncontrollably, because of course kaz would leave, and he should leave, because the more distance that remains between them, the safer kaz can be. but saints, he said he would stay. kaz is a liar and a thief, the worst sort of bastard and an outright criminal, but seeing the room devoid of any traces of him now — not true, there’s still the blood — brings him back to that miserable moment of standing in the sunlit suite of the palace knowing that kaz brekker had boarded a ship and was halfway across the sea without saying so much as a goodbye.
a graceless thud accompanied by a familiar voice cuts off the worrying sounds choking out of him, and nikolai turns to see kaz, like a damned specter conjured from his own mind, stumbling to a halt in the doorway. his chest seizes with shock. perhaps he’s not quite awake yet, still caught in a dream full of his most fervent wants, kaz at the height of them. his hand rises to his collar, fingertips digging carelessly into the dried blood across his skin. a sharp breath. it smarts. he’s most certainly awake. ]
Brekker. [ his feet propel him forward without thinking, but abruptly he stops, as if pulled by an invisible wire. he’d been able to bear his touch last night, but nothing feels certain now. there’s only a thin film between this moment and a rush of painful memories hammering at the edges of his mind. they could be from anywhere. fjerda, ravka, here. he’s lost control in every place he’s ever stood, and he’s always been the sort of man to look a thing squarely in the eye, but that was before he’d been blindsided again and again by the gravity of his own crimes. surely he can hide here for a moment longer. ] I thought you’d gone.
[ inching closer once more — he can’t help it — he studies kaz’s face in the shadows cast along the door. he looks ill at ease, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual. a sense of foreboding plucks at nikolai’s chest as he stands before him, his fingers twitching before carefully reaching out to touch the bandages wrapped around his palm. after a weighted pause, his lashes lowering, he slides his fingers higher to rest at kaz’s bare pulse, steeling himself for the onslaught of violence ready to sink into his bones.
but it doesn’t come. there’s only the unsteady flutter of kaz’s pulse jumping beneath the pad of his fingers, his blue eyes boring hard into him. nikolai looks to the darkened bruise at his throat, worse in the morning light, and forces his gaze to pass over without comment. he remembers kaz guiding his hands over his body, retracing places touched mere moments before. his jaw tightens. it feels wrong to give in to desire now, to hold him the way he wants to, to slip his hands beneath his robe and remind him of how a proper touch should feel. he braces a hand at the small of his back instead, gentling him from the doorframe. ]
I’ll make coffee. You need to get off that leg. [ he flashes a cheerful smile, firmly steering him away from the bedroom — away from the blood, from last night’s unsavory memories. the kitchen looks bigger somehow, and after pulling out a chair for kaz and another for his leg, he brings out a gleaming writing case and sets it onto the table before kaz with a flourish. ] Pen this letter to Zenik for me. I never finished it last night. Got derailed, turned into quite the mess, you know how it goes. We can set sail tomorrow morning. Tonight, if I can scramble my crew and they get the ship stocked. There’s no need to wait for a reply when I’m certain my charm and many years of loyalty to the Ravkan crown will permit me entry. She’s fond of you too, obviously.
[ with a plink, he tosses something glittery to the table. his ring with the lantsov crest engraved into the gold. on his other hand, the sapphire gleams in the sunlight as he untidies the counter, the smell of strong coffee filling the room. ] Have you ever had blini? I’ll make you breakfast. Something Ravkan.
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the same instincts lead him to allow nikolai’s guiding hand, lifting his leg onto the other chair (since nikolai isn’t one for sitting, either, least of all when hurting). hard not to think of how much warmer his touch feels in the dry air, without the demon steering it. as the signet rolls across the small table, he catches it and loses his focus in the process. when nikolai gave it to him on the volkvolny, kaz had been frightened for his wellbeing, chiefly, except underneath that he’d felt — trusted. chosen, to keep hold of something precious. maybe it hadn’t mattered as much to nikolai. the image of his flustered face when kaz returned it suggests otherwise. kaz holds it in his mind for a brief moment before replacing it with the real thing, whirring like a toy soldier that’s been wound up and set loose. ]
Tomorrow. [ a closer, admiring peek at the case (silver alloy, since it hasn’t rusted across the sea). briskly, then — ] Preferably the day after. We need to get our affairs in order, and it’s already half-noon. [ betraying that kaz stayed all morning, as promised. it’s just that nikolai isn’t the only one who struggles with inaction. in his tidy scrawl, he addresses the letter to the fjerdan crown and scans the few lines nikolai managed before he was derailed (by the demon, presumably). zenik won’t be available if they leave now. at any rate, he has no desire to holiday in fjerda, even in present company, and there’s the matter of their dinner plans, besides. when nikolai speaks again, kaz pauses writing his preferred timeline to level a disapproving look. ]
Come here when the coffee’s done. [ a snap of his fingers over the chair. resolute, he lowers his leg to the ground, extended to lessen its aches and make room for nikolai. ] I’ll keep you from bleeding all over my Ravkan breakfast. [ a trade, though he has the sense not to phrase it as one. you can take care of me, if i can take care of you. nikolai knows him well enough to guess that if he doesn’t comply, kaz will be up and limping. he waits until nikolai sits and swiftly drags the chair close, into the uneven v of his legs. another memory of nikolai — drawing kaz back after he skittered away the first time. best to sip his coffee and centre himself here, now.
fixed on the present task, his eyes slit at nikolai’s matted clothes, hooking fingers into his collar with one hand and slipping the other under his shirt from below. orienting himself on touch as he smoothes up to where skin sticks to fabric. a wound of this kind isn’t half as complex as a lock, but his fingers still feel out their path with care. not feverish, not clammy. ] On three. One — [ kaz tugs nikolai’s shirt from the outside and unsticks his flesh from the inside. not rotting, not dead. biting his teeth together, ] Off with it now. [ and already lifting the shirt over his head. promptly folds it in his lap, then, despite the stains: a choice possibly explained by how he drips the glass of water he retrieved by his lonesome on a clean corner. tipping up nikolai’s jaw with a firm grip, he sets about wiping the worst of the dried blood that mars the expanse from neck to collarbone. not grievously injured, not dying. it makes sense that the merzost doesn’t affect nikolai the way it does everyone else, being that it’s in his veins. now the wounds need to be disinfected and bandaged — but then one of them would have to break their closeness to fetch the supplies. voice low, ] I hate to disappoint you, [ a beat. ] but you’ll live. [ kaz finally allows the hand on nikolai’s jaw to relax and fall, gentling over his knee instead. ]
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kaz's sudden touch banishes the bulk of his thoughts, nikolai's cup suspended in midair at the sensation of his cool fingers against his skin. it's a marvel every time kaz initiates contact, his expression focused as if solving a tricky equation, his movements careful, just shy of natural. nikolai doesn't mind that kaz's touch never quite reaches the point of uninhibited or innate. he's never been touched by anyone in the way that kaz touches him, with such care and attention, with such a precise intensity that makes nikolai feel seen in a way that both terrifies and enthralls him. it never meant so much to him before kaz.
a quick sting, and then his shirt is whisked away, repurposed to clean the dried blood marring his skin. his memories of the night are still shrouded, but the closer kaz's fingers get to his tender flesh, the harder he feels the press of something foreboding against the perimeter of his thoughts. he tries to reorient himself on something else — kaz's eyes, the dark lashes framing his little bits of sky, the shadows beneath them standing out against the deathlike pallor of his skin — but his heart begins to thud uncomfortably against the cage of his chest, his next breath drawn with a measure of difficulty. kaz's deft fingers can surely feel the bob in his throat when he swallows.
something isn't right. there's something he's missing, a persistent feeling that hasn't left him since his scant moments of consciousness the night before. there's something kaz isn't telling him, something he must've done to him, some way he must have hurt him that he doesn't want him to blame himself for. nikolai's jaw tightens. though not entirely sure of himself, he reaches out to trace the bruise at kaz's throat, gentle as a feather. his fingertips trail lower, down past the older scars left by the monster, nudging open his robe to ghost down his side, his knuckles brushing the bandages at his ribs. there's nothing. no other marks he can discern. ]
Brekker. [ his eyes are bright with pain, his throat tight. he takes kaz’s bandaged hand, an unbidden flash of his bloodied palm at his mouth streaking through his mind. the sharp edge of hunger gnawing at him for weeks now has gone, replaced by a dull, more manageable ache. he fed from him. from a wound already there, which is why he can find no marks left by his teeth. the thought twists him into knots. ] Kaz. Did I kiss you? [ because he’d woken to something he hadn’t started, and if the monster — ] Did I do more than that to you?
[ it’s miserable, asking questions he can barely get out, seeking answers he knows he doesn’t want. doesn’t know if kaz will tell him the whole truth anyway. tension races through him, sick with unease. ] I don’t want to stay here. Have Dimitri or Milena pack your things. Surely there are others who can set your affairs in order. We mustn’t wait. Your wounds are not getting better.
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No. [ didn’t do more, didn’t kiss him. an answer both quick and firm. kaz is the one at fault for that development, taking the mark at his throat and tongue laving over his palm as signs of wanting. a universal weakness, it seems, unless the demon is unique among its kind, inheriting nikolai’s loneliness. in calculating the risks, kaz maximised his chances of self-preservation. well, he advanced his position on the board. perhaps he also tested a new mode of influence, all while giving into a reckless desire for all of nikolai.
rather than explain that, he cuts other truths loose. ]
You bargained with me. [ a one-fingered, rolling gesture. ] As an intermediary for bargaining with yourself. [ you’re the lever. leaning forward, he sets his hand higher on nikolai’s thigh and squeezes, an attempt at assurance. best not to overdo skin-to-skin taction after all nikolai faced yesterday. ] You threatened me. [ one brow arches. ] Unconvincingly, for what it’s worth. [ just saying. a deep breath, gaze flicking down to their fragile grip. ] And you fed from my hand. [ something nikolai will remember, if he hasn’t already, fixating on his bandaged palm like a waypoint. that flash of brilliant green was him, kaz knows it. he swings his eyes up again, swallowing nikolai’s obvious pain. it’s the least he can do. you’ll only make this worse for him now. saints, he knows that. ]
Because you’re not getting better, either. [ for a moment, his eyes are as clear (and visibly pained) as nikolai’s, but kaz blinks it away. surely, nikolai can’t deny a concern that mirrors his own. ] You’re starving — [ his breath catches, and he admonishes himself for it. ] Dying. And death makes all men desperate. [ almost says mad, but nikolai already knows as much. he continues with striking conviction, ] If you want to leave Ketterdam tomorrow, you need to feed tonight. [ a slight shake of his head. ] You can’t be near anyone else until you do. [ let alone caged with them on a ship for weeks. ] I’d wager that half the reason I’m alive is because I’m the one who fed you before.
[ the demon must remember that. call it animal instincts or a deeper understanding of what kaz brekker will do for his people. no need to mention invoking that blood-soaked memory by tipping his hand willingly into the very jaws that could kill him. ] The other half’s down to your piss-poor taste — which is catching. [ whatever made nikolai tenderly take his hand and supplanted bite with kiss is the same force that animates his recurring nightmares. affection seems generous. attachment could be the word. all synonyms for leverage. ]
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I'm not dying. That's ridiculous. [ he says it as if stating the weather, sidestepping his deteriorating mental condition. he's always had ups and downs. this is no different. but if he and the beast are inexorably linked now, then starving the thing will only serve to damage his own self. he thinks to his more frequent slips, the lost time, the moments he's sure he's standing in his own body but uncertain of whose thoughts are crowding his mind. at any moment he could once again lose the ability to touch kaz. doesn't even know how or why he has it back.
his gaze swings up again, this time hard, chafing immediately at what sounds like an order. kaz follows it with unwelcome logic before nikolai can protest, his words held on his tongue as he exhales a tense breath instead. his fingers rub gently over kaz's knuckles, his cold hand finally warming marginally beneath nikolai's touch. ]
You said it bargained with you. For what? [ he lifts his chin, leaning back in his chair. ] To be fed, no doubt. That means starving it is working. So let it die, Brekker. [ the chair scrapes against the floor as he stands suddenly, their clasped grip gently slipping away. he turns back to the kitchen and resumes making a mess of the counter — puffs of flour, eggshells cracked and discarded, sugar licked from his thumb — his expression schooled back into one of morning cheer. ] I won't die with it. Do you want some brandy in your coffee?
[ he brings over a bottle and sets it down beside the writing case, flashing a boyish smile. ] We'll bring the chains aboard the ship. Everything will be fine. Let me handle this.
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The same chains that saved my leg from your claws. [ bitten out before he can stop himself, mug rattling the table. his teeth graze his lower lip, a habit that has the unfortunate byproduct of recalling last night’s bloody kiss. kaz ducks his head and scrubs his face, recomposing himself by force. ] I didn’t — [ mean it, but he did, in this instance. his innate temper reacts poorly with nikolai’s contrived cheeriness, like combining two of wylan’s volatile concoctions. he tilts back in his chair and exhales, gripping the lip of the table. strange, to see his pale flesh stark against the wood. ungloved, unguarded. he pulls the robe tighter. ]
That wasn't your fault. [ fixing nikolai with a glare, he drags a hand through his hair hard enough to disturb its clean lines. ] But what do you think this [ gesturing between them. ] is? [ a temporary reprieve. the vital and ever-dwindling time they have to plan their next move. ] A date? [ boozy coffee and homemade breakfast. comforts that make men soft. his heart flutters, but there’s nowhere for it to go. ] No, what do you think happened last night? [ a quick breath. ] That the demon approached me and asked, politely, if I would consider feeding it merchlings. But — not to worry — a little blood, a bite and a kiss were enough to sate it forevermore. [ he splays his hands, mimicking the prestige of a magic trick. either he managed to comfort nikolai too much for the first time in his life, or this is denial as a means of survival. ]
It demanded to be fed, so I bartered for time, Nikolai. [ eyes fierce until he tears them away, looking askance. ] One night of rest. One day of peace. [ for you. kaz hardly slept, plagued by the waters that nearly drowned them; the blood already taken and still to be spilled. he reaches for the brandy and pours the lot in his coffee. ] That’s all this is.
[ in the event they renege this deal, kaz is more worried for nikolai than himself, but he can’t rule out retaliations. no amount of comorbid care in nikolai’s split self will keep the demon from making its displeasure known. the deal is the deal. breaking it begets consequences. ]
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but it's a well-deserved wounding, perhaps made stronger by the unceasing pain kaz has had to endure since that moment in the cellar. the shroud seems to clear for a moment, a cacophony of violent carnage just out of reach before it goes hazy again, his mind clearing. this hurt is crystalline, bright, sharp as a blade of grisha steel. it's familiar. kaz chafes against these comforts, he knows it, and yet he still endeavors to give them to him in whatever brief moments he can steal away from the constant press of chaos around them. he deserves them, deserves to know what it's like to wake in the morning and not think of death. but maybe he's fumbling this at every turn because he hardly knows the feeling himself. ]
Is it so terrible — [ he exhales softly, his smile pained as if it costs him to keep it there. holding out his cup for kaz to tip the bottle of brandy into his own coffee, ] To pretend for a minute? An hour? You said you bartered for time, so what will you do with it?
[ he looks at him for a moment longer before turning away, flicking a few drops of water into a hot pan and watching them sizzle. presently, the room fills with the aroma of browned sugar as he stacks hot pastries high onto a plate. his appetite has vanished with this conversation, replaced with the dread of knowing he'll have to feed before he boards his ship. merchlings. it's unthinkable that the monster would even suggest such a thing. he doesn't have it in him to inquire on kaz's reaction. he has to believe that kaz knows it's an altogether untenable notion, that nikolai would rather face whatever horrors the monster would inflict upon him than take another life in such a way.
returning to the table feels like a joyless, mechanical task, setting down the blini drizzled with honey and heaped with fresh fruit, but he forces himself to remain calmly composed, unwilling to give in to despair. that’s all this is. a singular day. if the events of last night hadn’t transpired, if the monster hadn’t shown its face and made its demands known, kaz likely wouldn’t have even stayed. but he said he would. nikolai shakes the thought away as a bout of childish whimsy. he is not a child and kaz owes him nothing. not even after what he’d said over the water last night — and what he’d failed to say in return. ]
Stay, if you’d like. But don’t feel as if you must. Not for my sake. [ he perches on the edge of the table and takes a generous swig of coffee, regarding kaz above the rim of his mug. his cheeks are flushed from the heat of the kitchen. ] Do finish that letter, though. If you need me to feed the monster tonight, then I will. But you can’t be in the room. And we’re leaving in the morning.
[ he stands, turns, meaning to walk away. he’s still shirtless, after all, the blood cleaned up but his wounds still bare, and he’s hardly interested in any argument kaz might presently broach, but something makes him turn back around, his glib demeanor replaced with something flinty. the type of rage sitting hot in his chest isn’t the sort for lashing out, instead leaving him weak with a wretched fear as he leans down, his scarred hand pressed flat to the table, his hazel eyes wild with barely contained emotion. ]
Why didn’t you stop it? [ his voice is a hoarse whisper, his brows pulled taut. ] Do you really mean to tell me that of all the times you didn’t have a pistol or a damned blade hidden up your sleeve — that the monster showed up and threatened you and you chose words instead of force? What the hell were you thinking, Brekker? How could you be so fucking reckless? That thing is not me. It’s only a matter of time before it hurts you in a way that you haven’t even thought about. [ an unsteady breath, his eyes burning with anguish — ] You cannot be afraid to hurt me, because it is not afraid to hurt you.
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If it’s not you, then you weren’t there. [ voice suddenly small. he was left to face a grisha demon on his own. his shoulders lift and settle, trying to work through that hateful weakness. there hasn’t been anyone to protect him since jordie’s terminal failure. to hope someone else would undertake that rotten work is worse than naivety — it's damnation. expelling a breath, kaz manges to lift his tone back to its usual scrape. ] What trick could I have up my sleeve? [ a sideways glance, hurt glinting, there and gone. ] In your room, your clothes, your bed. [ those are odds are stacked against him before he accounts for his affliction and aggravated injuries. nikolai told him it was safe to rest, but you’re the pathetic skiv who listened. he drags his thumbnail up his throat, retracing the path taken to his tender bruise. that’s the cost of pretending — of playing at romantic dates like last night and this morning. he wasn’t meant to have these things.
as if in divine punishment for his thoughts (or because he hasn't eaten since before he was violently ill and tapped for blood), his stomach growls. a perfect capper for this ridiculous affair. it belatedly occurs to him that nikolai hasn’t made himself any food after all that trouble. he cuts into his blini, lavish in the way all things nikolai tries to give him are, but only nudges it around his plate. it reminds him of how jordie would always return with hot chocolate, regardless of whether they could afford it. ]
I’m staying. [ he finally tips a meagre splash of brandy into nikolai’s coffee and no more, setting it aside. ] I do need you. [ a statement kaz fights to let hang, multiple meanings held inside it. as clever as he is, he can’t face the demon alone. why would nikolai think, even for a second, that he could? his stomach sinks. because he believes in you. he almost takes nikolai’s hand, his bandaged palm resting beside nikolai’s scarred fingers on the table. it was nikolai who pulled away last — who said he can’t take what kaz has never dared offer to anyone else. that should be the end of his heartsicknesses. ]
Will you join me for breakfast? [ finally, he takes a bite. a difficult to place expression crosses his face, still turned away. another bite, and he turns his head, jaw softening. ] Please. [ steady hands carve another neat square and skewer it, offering it to nikolai. ] I’d like to spend this time with you, without pretending. [ since nikolai asked, even if the question was intended rhetorically. ] To be near you, if you’ll allow it. [ how many times can nikolai reject that particular desire without snuffing it? ] To tend your wounds, as soon as we’re done here. [ his teeth snag the inside of his cheek, skin raw and tingling. ] To keep my promise to share what happened last night, so that we can devise a plan to deal with the fallout together — rather than wait for another of your lodger’s surprise negotiations. [ as lovely as being held down and having jagged fangs at his throat has been, there’s an argument to be made for alternative arrangements. normally, kaz wouldn’t say twice is a pattern, but the familiar ache in his arm from being pinned back and a fresh bruise in the same place marked the first time are difficult data to dismiss, however anecdotal. ] And you?
[ what does nikolai lantsov want? somehow, kaz doubts he has an answer. ]
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he sees his mistake now. all of this. the way the sunlight touches kaz's bare skin, unguarded. the way this could be a scene from any of the countless novels he's read, silly fictions from his youth. the way he's built this fabrication of a home when the truth sits just beneath every breath he takes, that he doesn't have one anymore. and he'd brought kaz here with promises he couldn't keep. a single night of rest, of safety. a lie. there are no safe places anymore.
wordlessly, he sinks back down into the seat beside him. tries to think. he said he would make this right. he has to find a way. kaz speaks again, and nikolai looks at him, unsure if it's tender relief or an awful chafing misery he feels at his words. maybe a bit of both. he doesn't know if he should believe them, because it's becoming increasingly clear that kaz would be much better off far away from here — perhaps a part of him would be more lost because of it, but the whole of him would be, at the very least, alive. isn't that what matters? i do need you is simply not true. he only thinks it is. kaz had been better off before he’d ever tended to his wounds on his ship all that time ago. hadn’t he?
nikolai leans forward, ignoring the offered fork, his eyes flickering over the bruise once more. then he rests his forehead against kaz’s shoulder, a heavy sigh going out of him as his eyes slip closed, all his strength threatening to bleed out. for a long, quiet moment he allows himself this, his hands coming up to slide gently along the sharp planes of kaz’s hips, feeling the familiar lines of his body through the fabric of his robe, careful of his wounds. he smells like blood and salt, and after another slow breath, another thought: he smells like the water, which perhaps he resents, but nikolai presses his lips to his collarbone for the briefest of moments, the gentlest of touches, and tastes the sea.
when he pulls back, the boyish softness from his eyes has gone, replaced with the sharp focus of a man who once commanded armies, who held a nation together by ingenuity and the force of his own will. a man familiar with setting aside his own wants, of going without comfort, of remaining separate out of necessity. kaz is a man, and he is a monster, and he would do well to remember that. the grin he offers is the fox’s grin, not the sweet, earnest smile that kaz has pulled out of him so many times before. ]
No more pretending, then. [ not said unkindly, but it’s firm, resolute, as if he’s made up his mind about something without consulting kaz in the process. his demeanor turns serious. ] I put you in danger for my own selfish whims. I will not ask forgiveness for that. I will endeavor to earn it instead. But know that I’m sorry that I left you to face the worst parts of me alone and unarmed.
You said there’s more. So tell me what happened. [ he takes a breath, then draws kaz’s injured leg into his lap, elevating it gently. this isn’t prolonging the fantasy — it’s simply practical. when he settles his hand carefully against his thigh, he’s surprised to find the beat of his pulse less jarring than expected, more like a gentle comfort. ] This time is yours, Brekker. You earned it with your life. I would give you anything you asked.
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[ mildly, ] I doubt that. [ impossible, that he earned his life back, when he promised things he has no right to offer. improbable, that nikolai would give him anything he asked. having witnessed how the monster feeds and the toll it enacts on his person, kaz sees why nikolai abhors sating it at all. while the slight quirk of kaz’s mouth hints at acceptance, shrewd eyes watch for tells. he hasn’t seen that grin on nikolai’s face since it caught the sunlight on the bow of his ship. the too-clever fox, not to be trusted. ] All I did was dirty my hands. [ in an instant, he has his composure rebalanced on a dagger's edge. his face hardens, jaw set in defiance. ]
It wants to feed every seven days. [ human flesh. a nonstarter that would renew nikolai’s spiralling. his present steadiness may be yet another mask, worn for kaz’s benefit. he reaches out to brush nikolai’s hair behind his ear, keenly aware that another wedge may be driven between them in moments. ] It said it took everything from you. [ his hand falls away. even the key details disclosed thus far must unsettle nikolai, with how they ascribe an independent voice to the demon. ] Your sleep, your clarity in waking life — [ a tight breath. ] Me. [ he lifts his coffee to his mouth and, much to his relief, the brandy burns his throat. ] Every time I glimpsed it before, it tried to push me away from you. I thought it might wish to isolate you… Then I wondered if it could share your desire to protect me through distance. [ he purses his mouth. another sip, and he places the mug on the table gingerly. ] In the cellar, it asked who marked me on the job. [ protective per his theory — or possessive? ] Last night, it had me. [ by the throat, as good as dead. ] But it only left the same bruise as before. [ a faint flush, high in his cheeks. ] And it targeted my hand, where I was already injured. [ to exploit a vulnerability or minimise the damage? his heartbeat ratchets suddenly, the truth locked behind his teeth. ]
It said I was your lever, which would mean I'm also its lever, if used correctly. [ a final hesitation, blinked away. ] The kiss was my hunch. [ an all-or-nothing bet, bloodying his mouth to heighten the offer and the stakes. ] It worked. [ because all it did was kiss and kiss and kiss him. like nikolai. licking the blood from his mouth, teeth sharp and voice serrated. won't offer an apology for inviting this dangerous intimacy. the demon has been weaponising closeness since their first encounter (leaving him paralysed by the tongue at his throat, limbs locked and hand gouged aboard the volkvolny). until yesterday, kaz hadn’t been able to harness that momentum. ] But — [ the wounded noise on nikolai’s lips echoes in his skull. the question he could barely ask lingering since it was stuttered. ] I’m sorry I did that to you, Nikolai. [ there are some secrets even kaz brekker can’t keep. nikolai deserves to know that he's the worst sort of liar and thief, wielding anything he can pick up and carry. ]
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You doubt it because it's the easy way out — [ a quirked brow, a glint in his eye, ] For someone who still hasn't mastered asking for the wants you keep hidden in your heart. [ not to be trusted, indeed. but it's easier — less painful — to think of it in these terms, as a muscle to be stretched and tested than the things he wishes they could have if they were ordinary men. something to be learned instead of something to be given. ] And I don't mean a request for nearness or a shared breakfast. I mean the things you think about when you're alone.
[ he doesn't look away when kaz continues, the easy set of his jaw tightening just slightly as his mind races at the implications of his words. every seven days. he almost laughs aloud at the thought, his fingers rubbing pensively at the morning stubble at his chin. his breath quivers for a brief moment when kaz's careful fingers curl behind his ear. it took everything from you. very nearly so. he touches kaz's bandaged leg, letting his fingers linger. it's unsettling to hear that there's so much shared between kaz and the monster, that it has its own thoughts on kaz brekker, its own feelings and desires. he's just a lever, nothing more. and yet it had kissed him back, that much he's certain of, because of the way he'd woken with the shock of kaz's lips against his. ]
Don't. Don't apologize for it. [ he tilts his head, gesturing to the plate. it'll get cold if kaz doesn't eat, and he needs his strength, having drained his blood into the water, onto the sheets, down the monster's throat — his throat. his stomach turns, and he reaches for the brandy kaz had been rather ungenerous with, pouring a hefty splash into his nearly empty cup. ] I may have a questionable sense of honor, but the monster has none at all. Thinking of me when you're attempting to strategize against it will only serve to hinder you. We both know you're far too clever for that.
[ he reaches into the writing case for a worn, folded map, smoothing it out onto the table, one blackened fingertip tracing a path from ketterdam to djerholm. ] You say it wishes to feed every seven days, but it’s, frankly, highly improbable that we’ll reach a weekly port, considering Kerch is located conveniently in the middle of nowhere. That is to say, impossible. We’ll make several stops — I’ll ask Ehri for passage into Shu Han so we can replenish our supplies, and then we’ll stop several more times along the western coast of Ravka. [ his heart gives an uncomfortable little thump at the thought of seeing zoya again. of course she would come. wouldn’t she? ] So, if we’re seriously considering entertaining this ludicrous request at all, that means we’ll have to store an adorable little family of deer or such ilk in cargo, preferably alive, which is an unambiguously deplorable idea, or we allow the monster the freedom to leave the ship to hunt on its own. Which is the only worse idea than bringing a noisome and foul-smelling farm onto my ship.
That begs the question — [ he looks up again, still parsing through the glut of information about the night prior. the monster left only the same bruises on kaz, exploited an existing injury instead of creating a new one — a courtesy not extended to his own body. if the thing has somehow developed some sort of hateful fondness for brekker, if indeed he’s correct and there is something to be leveraged here… they can hardly afford not to use it. and the thought leaves this rather exquisite brandy turning sour on his tongue. ] If I ignore this hefty demand, what are the consequences? Did it give you an ultimatum? [ he pinches the bridge of his nose, heaving out a sigh. ] You may have to barter again. [ then, softer, regret in his voice, ] Prepared, this time.
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[ arching his brows, ] Careful, Lantsov. [ the things he’s been thinking about on his own may very well have led them here. if nothing else, sharing those desires with nikolai worsened the fractures in the delusion that was holding him together. ] If I repeat my wants, you’ll have to drown yourself in the sink. [ instead of diving into the depths. in all matters related to the demon, nikolai has been forgiven without second thought. in the matter of his twice-fold rejection last night, however — ] I’d hold you under myself, but you’d enjoy it too much. [ his mouth tugs slightly downward, not allowed to express the extent of his displeasure. ]
[ the sun rises higher in the sky, afternoon light washing over them. when nikolai finally answers him, he stills. don’t apologise. a long-held breath escapes him. he keeps himself from saying the instinctive, wanting response, hard not to think of you. kaz thinks of nikolai whether or not he has him in hand, and certainly with his mouth pressed against his, even as every hungry push hit at an unfamiliar angle. he resumes nudging his food around the plate, listening but not looking until nikolai slides the map into his peripheral vision.
despite their miserable circumstances, it’s thrilling to have this part of nikolai back: his brilliant mind set to an impossible puzzle. the stops range from interesting — ehri and her beautiful treasury — to unpleasant — zoya and her thunderous disappointment. a couple bites of his breakfast save him from thoughtless contributions. if it were his decision, kaz would drag nikolai’s dinner on board and sail non-stop to finish this. it isn’t. it can’t be, given the uniquely personal terrors involved (and how reluctant nikolai has been to lift himself out of stagnation to act until now, besides).
at the prospect of scheming, his eyes brighten. his gaze meets nikolai’s once again, assessing his seriousness. after a pause, he shrugs into an off-handed answer. ]
Something about us both dying horribly. [ to be expected of the demon, and of himself, frankly. thieves like him never die peacefully. he speaks slowly, each word measured and selected. ] If you feed tonight, that’s a good-faith offering. Proof you can be swayed — and that I can be trusted. [ strengthening the link between kaz brekker and survival. ] That buys us at least seven days. [ the timing beyond that will prove tricky, especially when they’re reneging the other notable condition of the deal. human flesh. ] The demon wants to be useful — the way it was to you in the war — and, perhaps, not to be alone, but food is the only currency that we know it understands. [ he rests his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the table. ] If we’re withholding it, even out of necessity — we need to sweeten the deal. [ a pointed look seems to hint that he knows nikolai won’t like any of the plans that occur to him. ] Let it feed on me, the way it did last night, until we find a better solution.
[ nikolai will want this to be temporary, if he can stomach it at all. what else does kaz brekker have to offer? a strange closeness? a kind of understanding of the demon’s role? another kiss? all juvenile, compared to a basic need delivered in an appealing fashion. ]
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That’s not what I meant. I wanted you to ask for a way in which I could still be useful to you. [ a quiet sigh, as he pulls a hand through his hair and rests his knuckles against his mouth, looking at him steadily. ] I kissed you, rather unwisely, there in the water. [ kaz should remember. then again, he’s not sure what the recollection of the night looks like in kaz’s feverish thoughts, dragged into his worst nightmares once again. guilt sears his lungs like a bitingly cold breath of air. ] I didn’t try to get away from you because of what you said. The demon tried to take over as soon as I touched you. [ with some effort, he relaxes his demeanor, his brow quirking as he swiftly glosses over the obvious — that he might’ve died if kaz hadn’t been able to brave the depths and fish him out. none of it would’ve happened at all if he hadn’t foolishly tried to indulge in his hopeless fantasies again and again. ] Maybe the monster does like you.
[ but still he doesn’t say it, those words that had come spilling out of kaz last night as if contained for too long. can’t or won’t or a combination of both. there’s no sense in pretending anything good can come out of it, no sense in dwelling on something that they’re not meant to have. the monster will take everything. this short reprieve is only because kaz gave it something — a ridiculous promise, sealed in blood. he studies kaz from the corner of his eye, watches him pick at his food and shift his expression as they go through their options. something feels off, still, as if he’s missing a piece of this picture. for all his protests, they can bring livestock onto the ship. they’d have to be careful, come up with a story, limit access to the hold. it would be far from ideal, a messy, gruesome affair, but one that they could, possibly, pull off. and kaz has never been one to balk from a little mess.
nikolai’s gaze sharpens, his mind whirring. dying horribly is as vague as it gets, and he doubts the monster used those words. he listens in silence, trying to pick through what he’s not saying, trying to understand why it isn’t enough to lock nikolai in the cellar of the safe house and toss him some hapless animal to devour in the dark — and then kaz says it, and the sudden truth rushes through him like a current of zoya’s lightning.
he doesn’t want to believe it. doesn’t believe it for a long moment, as silence falls between them with the force of a thunderclap, but no other words come, and nikolai can conjure no other reasonable explanations now that he’s stumbled upon the only one that makes sense. we need to sweeten the deal. why, if they’re giving the monster the same thing that’s always satisfied it until now? because it’s no longer satisfied with creatures from the wilderness. it has always had a taste for human flesh. that’s where this nightmare began all those years ago, and he simply fooled himself into thinking he could escape this unending refrain. ]
It doesn’t want livestock anymore. Does it? [ he pins kaz with a hard gaze, calm only from years of experience with not losing his head every time a part of the sky comes crashing down on him. he lied to you. is it a lie to omit the truth, perhaps to spare his feelings, or more likely because kaz thought he couldn’t handle it? yes. there’s an ocean he leaves unsaid, sudden hurt swimming in his flinty gaze, that kaz would leave him to wonder about any of this when his grasp of these moments is tenuous at best, his memories constantly shifting and ever unreliable. this is why they’re having this conversation at all, that it isn’t just a simple matter of demanding that nikolai feed like a damned dog to keep the monster sated — in true kaz brekker form — why kaz has slowly but surely steered them here, to this end.
he chokes down his ire, his expression splintering to thorns, angry with kaz in this particular way perhaps for the very first time. a feat, considering how maddening he can be. ]
I don’t like to be led. [ his voice low, hard. impossible to keep the tremor out, from rage or fear or hurt, he doesn’t know which. the monster wants humans. that knowledge in itself is shattering. he stands abruptly from the table, careful not to jostle kaz’s leg, unable to stand another moment of this farce. leaving kaz without another word, he returns to his bedroom and tries to wrangle control of his racing thoughts, his eyes falling to the bloodied sheets. without thinking, he begins to strip the bed bare, tossing the soiled linens to the floor. there’s an unbearable pressure in his chest, panic trying to spring free at the brand new thoughts crowding his mind — death, the soft give of flesh, and above all kaz’s lips against his, warm and slick with his blood. ]
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i don’t want to be led recurs in his mind. you don’t want to helped he counters to himself. resolve strengthening, kaz stands to tidy the mess nikolai left behind and ignores the pain in his leg. it’s almost grounding, a new constant in his life. or the only one you’ve ever known. in truth, he lacked a grand plan in this conversation, adjusting to the changes of the tide. nikolai refused to feed every seven days, so he cut to an alternative — one that might close the weeks spent aboard the ship for his sake. but you’re kaz brekker, always scheming and plotting, with trick after trick up your sleeve. he should be glad that even nikolai believes the myth. if his lies keep nikolai from applying tenderness to his wounds or trying to kiss him out of obligation (a desire to be useful, not wanted, the way kaz wants and wants wants), it’s for the best. kaz need only urge him to fjerda and then back to ravka, where he belongs, with warmer hands and sweeter mouths to welcome him.
annoyance piqued, kaz abandons his efforts to search for his clothes from last night, finding his own shirt, wrinkled but still wearable, and some trousers of nikolai’s. by the time he drags himself to nikolai’s room, cane thudding all the way, he appears presentable.
when nikolai fails to acknowledge his entrance, still bent over the bed, kaz clears his throat. ]
The way you wish to be useful to me… [ kissing him, touching him, tending his wounds and unlocking the desires kept hidden for so long. he freezes inside the entryway, one hand on the doorframe and the other on his cane. for a long moment, his next words jumble in his mind, and he hangs his head. ] I don’t want that without the rest. [ a hitch in his throat. ] I can’t. [ an unmatched ache and sudden relief collide as he finally says it. having nikolai the way he offers, all while sentiment fills his heart, his lungs, his throat — it’s like drowning. ] I can do anything else. [ he can be the monster or the thing on which it feeds. a resource to be used, clever as the devil. a companion, if nikolai still desires his poison tongue. a little too quick (too desperate), then — ] I’m not going anywhere. [ staying, just not in his arms, in his bed. maybe this will be better for nikolai, too, no longer worrying about how kaz fits, when it’s clear there’s no place for him. ]
For what it’s worth, I’d rather cart an entire farm across the sea than subject you to the demon’s desire for human flesh. [ though he’s loathe to admit it, his omissions make him guilty of the very charges he levelled against nikolai yesterday: lying out of a desire to protect the person he cares for and foolishly facing the thing in the dark on his own. ] But you lead. I’ll follow.
[ wont to disappear without nikolai’s acknowledgment, he waits for a response. ]
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kaz appears in the doorway then — not gone, keeping his promise — and a gristly image superimposes atop his form. bloodsoaked, his skin whiter than a ghost, eyes empty. not the demon’s doing, just nikolai’s imagination running towards the worst possible end. he shuts his eyes, a visible tremor going through him as he recoils, his fingers tightening as he yanks the goose down pillows from the bed and adds them to the bloodied heap on the floor.
kaz speaks before he can tell him to leave, nikolai’s spine stiffening as if he wants to turn and go to him. the ache in his words is palpable, the hitch in his breath sending a painful pang through nikolai’s chest. the same pressure from the night before builds now, the urge to say something right, to tell him the truth of what grows inside of him. tell him you love him. he sags suddenly, his hands splayed on the bare mattress, stark black against soft white. ]
You must think I don’t want this. Us. [ he despises the weakness in his voice, the way it’s kaz who has been left time and time again to face the horrors of the monster alone while nikolai can’t get these simple words out. ] You. [ he’s silent again, his heart trying to escape his chest, fingers slowly curling into the mattress. what if he does feed and this compromise is not enough? what if the monster takes back what it thinks it’s owed — everything — and he finds he can no longer touch kaz until he gives in and takes a human life? then he will have squandered this time away for nothing, time he’s not sure will ever come again — just like those days in os alta, watching kaz like a phantom, a slow disappearing act right before his eyes.
he bridges the distance then, looking every bit a madman — still shirtless, his wounds only half tended to, unkempt hair falling into his wild eyes. he sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he’s crossed miles instead of a few steps, staring at kaz balanced in his doorway. there’s no hesitation when he reaches out this time, his hands cradling his face so he can look into his eyes, the rush of anguish that fills his chest entirely his own. ]
Do you think that I can do anything with you and not feel the rest? [ he doesn’t want the answer. he knows he placed those doubts in kaz’s head himself despite wanting so badly to guard his heart. ] That I could ever touch you, kiss you, look at you and not feel — [ his fingers slide down the sharp planes of his cheeks, caressing the lines of his jaw. one hand ghosts to his throat, his hand stilling over the dark bruise. he tilts kaz’s jaw up and leans in, his lips suddenly ghosting over his mottled skin. ] That I could somehow divorce touch and the depth of what I feel for you — Kaz, even if the monster never let me touch you again, if it was the only one that ever got close enough to feel you, I would never stop feeling this way for you. And I would never want to.
[ he can’t get close enough, pressing kaz’s spine to the doorframe, distantly hearing his cane thud carelessly to the floor. one arm winds around his waist, bracing kaz against him as his mouth finds his for a desperate kiss, having ached for this for so long that he can barely hold himself back. ]
You can’t tell me to lead. [ his fingers tremble as they card through kaz’s dark hair and come to rest at his cheek once more, words dropping to a whisper between kisses. ] Because if it were up to me I would say to hell with all of this. I don’t care what’s coming for me. I would board my ship with you and show you the entire world and never come back. And I would love you with all the days that I have left. [ he laughs suddenly, a soft, aching sound as he presses his face to kaz’s hair to give him a moment to breathe, a moment to pull away if he needs to. ] You can’t tell me you’d follow such madness.
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until nikolai looks at him, eyes blazing without a speck of black to mar them. old instincts straighten kaz’s spine, jaw angled up for a fight. his fingers curl into fist, balanced against the doorframe. the hands on his face knock every thought off its track. a flicker of hurt escapes the crack in his wary mask. he forces himself to take a long breath, hand lifting from the door to nikolai’s forearm, unsure whether he intends to guide it away or hold it there. the distress crumpling nikolai’s features stalls any action. where would he go, when nikolai is here?
as nikolai mouths over his bruise, guilt and relief sear down his spine. hard to say what touch feels like for others, when it remains inherently overwhelming for kaz, imbued with meaning. there is no touch without risk (and its corollary, trust). no taction short of devastating (galvanising). nikolai’s words — the depth of what i feel you — prove just as rattling, the answer to the question he’s been asking since novyi zem. no, since nikolai kissed him in the captain’s quarters, as if he were a desirable thing. his words are a revelation with the force of a crashing wave, kaz, not brekker. nikolai has been closer than anyone (only the demon nips at his heels). a truth he seems to acknowledge without nudging him towards alternative hopes, for a change.
he drops his cane, but only realises it from the clatter against the floor. can’t help but think about how foolish that is — to drop his only weapon and support so that he can thread a hand into nikolai’s hair and throw an arm around his shoulders, to keep him there, kissing him breathless. there are no safe places, including here, in these arms. it’s easier to scold himself for that than face the words tumbling from nikolai’s perfect mouth. i would love you ringing, hallucination made real. that laugh in his ear — he tips his head back against the frame, angle harsh enough that he can see with his eyes half-closed. silent, invisible calculations in his head. ]
[ quiet, then. ] Are you hoping I’ll say no? [ another trap in which kaz brekker provides the escape, free of charge. no one but nikolai would recognise the unease tucked in the tick of his voice. kaz pushes through it. ] You won’t lead. You won’t be led. [ he drags a hand down nikolai’s collar, just shy of his fresh wounds, and then reverses course to cup his cheek. ] What am I supposed to do with you? [ besides this, tugging him in for a resurgent kiss and then another, fingers twisting into the short hair at the nape of his neck. ] You’ve been mad from the start. [ touching the bastard of the barrel after a dust-up, as if that’s the done thing. he closes his eyes and catches his breath, quieting the crackle of intimacy and lingering confessions. ]
I’d keep a hand on the wheel. You know that. [ can’t give over control completely, always angling and ever ready for the tide to change. it’s not quite an answer, but then nikolai didn’t ask a question. eyes opening, he tips his head forward. ] Does that sound like madness?
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he can't. not now. but looking at him now, sleepless and shadowed, the stench of blood still clinging to this room, he knows that allowing the demon to prey on him can only be a fleeting solution. once only. he lifts a finger and traces the pad his thumb beneath kaz's eye, his fingertip barely brushing the bottom of his dark lashes. after this voyage, after they reach fjerda, he can't rule out a painful untethering. not when he can't guarantee that a more permanent answer will ever present itself after all.
but of this he says nothing, because there are other promises he needs to extract first. he tugs kaz from the doorframe, mindful of the time he’s spent standing, their lips meeting in slow harmony as he guides him into the room. stripping the bed all for a little blood now feels a touch foolish, the mattress bare and uninviting, so he brings kaz to the floor instead, lowered into a mountain of pillows and sheets he’d thrown down in his discomfited tantrum. he can hardly bring himself to take a breath for want of kissing him, his eyes fluttering open to slide a pillow beneath kaz’s knee before he’s concentrated on his mouth again, hand cradling his cheek as he braces kaz gently against the side of the bed, leaning in like he’ll never be able to get close enough. ]
I trust you. [ to keep a hand on the wheel. he’ll need to, when nikolai is buried deep inside himself and unable to be his safety in the way he’s always endeavored. the kiss breaks, but he doesn’t move away, his eyes shuttered. it’s easier this way when he knows what he’s going to ask won’t be met with enthusiasm. his fingers glide slowly down kaz’s cheek, coming to rest at the curve of his throat, his thumb brushing over his bruised skin. ] But you have to make me a promise. Promise that you’ll defend yourself in any means necessary. That you won’t hesitate just because this thing is in my body, wearing my face. Swear it to me. [ he finally pulls back, taking kaz’s bandaged hand and pressing it to his heart, the wounds at his chest stinging beneath kaz’s fingers. ] Swear to me that I won’t wake up to find your body robbed of life by the monster. I would rather die. Swear that you’ll kill me first.
[ his hazel eyes are clear, steady. the only regret he feels is that he knows these demands are too great a burden to place upon anyone, that these words will sit like a serrated blade in kaz’s lungs each time he takes a breath. kaz will not forgive him, if it ever comes to this brutal end, but there are many crimes nikolai knows he’ll never earn forgiveness for. he doesn’t look away, gaze fixed on kaz’s eyes, bright sapphire only made more piercing with pain. ]
I will not kill for the monster. [ he’s done it enough, so many times that he’ll never be able to put a number to the lives he’s taken or absolve himself of this sin. he won’t add to it. ] And I will not feed from you unless you agree to my terms. This is not a barter.
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another time, he might unpick how nikolai sometimes speaks of the demon as part of him, while others, he refers to it as wholly separate. can barely focus on thoughts splintering from the present, with how nikolai drags him to a potential future. this is what he trusts you to do. his own pulse thuds in his ears, accelerated and magnified by nikolai’s heart beating beneath his palm. his other hand cradles nikolai’s skull, tugging it forward. ]
[ in a whisper made harsh by the gravel in his throat, ] I know. [ nikolai would rather die than kill again. if it came down to him or nikolai, any unselfish gambit would doom them both. he tilts his head until their foreheads press together, blue eyes more alert than they’ve been all morning. ] I swear, Nikolai. If it comes to that, I’ll kill you first. [ that scenario plays out against his will: nikolai’s teeth at his throat, the knife in his hand, his body suddenly limp against him. he wants to beg for an alternative, any promise that won’t send him hurtling back to the start — no, further along the winding path he took to power. ] The deal is the deal. [ ground out, despite every protest in his heart. a kiss seals it, hard and desperate. his memory of last night's ploy refracts in the afternoon sun. it won’t end that way, he reminds himself. if the demon wanted to kill him, it would have seized the opportunity to do so before now. it might yet kill someone else, dissatisfied with kaz’s offering. he'll have to force it to understand. bloodshed all but guarantees its end. and kaz brekker, untrustworthy and fractious as he is, can repay what’s been lost. his lips brush nikolai’s cheek, suddenly chaste. ]
Go get the kit. Can't have a scratch ending you before all that. [ less vitally, it allows him time to re-arrange all the trembling thoughts in his mind. if it comes down to him or nikolai, he can make the call (the kill). it’d be no different from his life up to this point. better to view everything he’s had in the last year as the exception and not the rule. he tidies his hair, though he suspects (hopes) nikolai will dishevel it again. ] You didn’t answer me earlier. [ at breakfast. once he has the kit in hand, he’s quick to dab at nikolai’s wounds without warning, the burn of disinfectant chasing his nimble fingers. ] Is this all you want today? [ from there, he unwinds the bandages and jerks his head to call nikolai closer. his good leg bends to leverage himself straighter, so he can wrap the crimson cuts on nikolai’s chest. ] And tonight?
[ a murkier concept. his gaze meets nikolai’s before returning to his work, movements precise. ]
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what year is it
the year of my blessing