𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗦𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦 || 𝖭𝗂𝗄𝗈𝗅𝖺𝗂 𝖫𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌𝗈𝗏

𝘹𝘪𝘪𝘪 - 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵

He'd worked so hard to be the opposite of his brother. Which is why it hurt so bad when someone showed the same fear, discomfort, and disgust towards him as his brother so often did. It mattered little now, he supposed. What was done was done and he wouldn't be able to fix it even if he wanted to. He honestly wasn't even sure what triggered such a reaction. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind, but it was nothing more than a hazy blur.

He just had to get to his room, and then he could wallow in his misery in private. Maybe if he stared up at the ceiling long enough, he would be able to piece it all together.

Four feet separated him from his room's door, but he came to a sudden screeching halt as he walked past an open arch leading out to a balcony. It overlooked the manor's gardens and stood by the railing, was the girl he'd not been able to take his mind off of since the winter fete two and a half years ago.

Saints, he would never get over how beautiful she looked. Even now when all he could see was her back, it stole his breath away. She was not wearing her kefta, leaving her in a long-sleeved cream-coloured shirt. Nikolai got the sudden urge to play hero and offer her his coat because surely she had to be at least a little cold, but he stamped it away. He shouldn't act like a fool in front of her.

He knew he should've turned away and gone to his room. He really did, but how could he possibly help himself when it felt like a glittering golden thread was unspooling between their hearts, pulling him to her? He ached to be around her. There had never been anyone that had made him feel like that. It was a marvel that these kinds of feelings existed at all.

Nothing was separating them except the glass door that led to the balcony. Nikolai pushed it open without a second thought.

Freya looked over her shoulder at him as soon as he stepped towards her. She hesitated for a moment but gave him a small smile. It was stiff and unsure and nothing like the radiant tilt of her lips that he'd come to crave. Nikolai approached her carefully, taking note of every stiff part of her body, of the vice-like grip she had on the granite bannister of the balcony. She looked back out into the garden.

A sense of deja vu hit Nikolai as he took his place beside her at the bannister, staring out into the same direction as her. That night at the winter fete, they'd met just like this. Except she was no longer the young innocent girl that hadn't seen a single moment in battle and he was no longer just the prince.

"Is he alright?" The question fell out of him before he had any chance to stop it. Freya's grip on the bannister tightened. Even she is uncomfortable beside you. The thought stung, but he didn't let it show.

"He's calmed down," she said with a tilt of her head. She was looking at him now, her perfect northern-sea eyes glittering. He could get lost in them. Swim in that unfathomably infinite sea of her soul. "He's asleep now."

Nikolai nodded, letting out a sigh. "That's good." Freya hummed her agreement. An uncomfortably long silence stretched between them. Maybe it was only awkward for him because Freya seemed to be enjoying the silence in his presence. But he wanted to squirm, which was so unlike him, but the need was there all the same.

He despised how much a single thought of his brother and father could throw him off his axis. How they could send him spinning away from what he knew was true and right, all because they existed somewhere in a dark corner of his mind. There was no reality in which he'd ever be able to get rid of them. Not when Vasily's voice rang through his head whenever he made a mistake.

Sobachka.

Bastard.

Nikolai Nothing.