The Tsar, The Princess And The Tailor

War

"You will tell me nothing. You will fight. You will win. And when you return, Nikky... When you return, we shall talk about everything one could possibly exchange words of under the sun. And the thing underneath your skin will be removed and we will be together until there are old, withered bones where our bodies once stood."

"...Do you promise, Ixora? Do you swear it to me - that you will stay? That we... You and I... That everything will be alright for us and for Ravka?"

There was too much to talk about. And too many chances this could all go wrong. Even if he did live to see tomorrow, Nikolai could get tired of her. He could remember the hurt of the recent past and tell her to leave. And Brum... Who was to say he was a man of his word? The Fjerdan god Djel, did not take kindly to liars but that had never stopped the greatly sanctimonious from committing atrocious acts before. Ixora couldn't understand why Nikolai thought playing martyr would fix everything.

She knew what it was like to hate herself but his need to be enough was greater than she could fully understand. She wasn't certain that knowing beforehand and begging him to reconsider would have been enough to change his decision.

He had taken too much upon himself all his life... Placed the sins of his family upon his head as his thorned crown to bear, every life lost during the battle with Fjerda or with the Darkling a personal failure embedding deeper and deeper into his heart.

She wasn't sure he would fight. That was what scared her the most. His belief that he deserved to be consumed by every failure was too deeply written. And dying? Dying was a painful, abrupt end but an end, nonetheless. Being alive meant more risk for more pain and loss and heartbreak.

But being dead would mean the good parts went away as well. Ixora didn't know what could possibly mean enough to Nikolai that he would find a reason to want to stay and care enough to fight for his life against a highly-trained army commander. She didn't know what else to do except weep and smile at him and try to hold him long enough that the way his hair smelt and felt, the rough-scarred-smoothness of his skin, what it felt like to know with all of her that he was alive could linger forever in her memory.

Nikolai leaned into her hesitantly at first, then threw himself deep into her feel and scent. The woman had a way of making the entire world disappear. Leaving just them two as if a shield could be built through a single, wicked touch or shared glance alone. He nuzzled his nose against her hair as they detached, taking a moment to ground himself, then flung open the doors and moved to the arena.

Ixora was slow to join the crowd. They had parted for their king but she had to slowly force her way through, helped out by Zoya the moment the Squaller spotted her struggle. With Genya at her side and Alina at the other, both squeezing her hands, Ixora waited, dread settling into her bones with every passing moment. Zoya stayed close by them, remaining detached and keeping her eyes focused on the men.

They were beginning to circle each other. That wasn't a good sign. Nikolai took a moment to glance around at the people. Some were saddened to the point of tears, some stony-faced and impossible to interpret, most cheering him on as hard as they could. Confident that he would succeed. Putting their trust in him. If they only knew how weak he was... Like a lamb that was waiting to be slaughtered.

It felt like fate. It didn't seem something he should trifle with. The shadow creature would only defend him if there was a threat against his life but he wasn't sure it would be able to tell when he felt so little interest in keeping himself alive. His eyes trailed quite suddenly to Ixora. She had been watching him, swallowing down a hard lump when he sent her a small, cheeky wink.

Deep down, he knew this was cruel. He knew that what he was doing would have a profound effect on her, on his friends and crew, on his people. But he'd already agreed and he hated being wrong. As an inventor, error was a risk of every experiment but he couldn't let that show. He didn't want the commander sensing his weakness. He needed to do this. He needed to protect them all and if this was the only way to guarantee even a chance of ending the war...