The king was busy preparing for the arrival of the Fjerdans. Zoya and Alina as well, training the united army side-by-side. Genya was keeping to herself, perhaps avoiding her, the Zemeni couldn't quite tell so Ixora was mostly left to herself.
She was used to being alone. Unlike most people, it didn't feel like a burden to her. She had made peace with the demons in her mind. Still, they lingered, but gentleness had turned them into harsher friends. It was long ago that she realised the fight with herself was pointless. Nobody cared about the thoughts in her head. Nobody cared about how her rage would sometimes consume her life. Nobody cared because nobody knew.
And she had felt weak since she was a child. Incapable of protecting anyone, whether it was her mama or her people the way Saint Koko had. People often said she was his reincarnation, gazing at her with too much adoration. It took some time for her to understand that self-loathing was pointless but the desires she had could be accomplished regardless and so, she trained.
Her mother showed her the power of meditation. Of leaving the world and all its problems behind; linking ever-so-carefully with the flow of the universe itself. It brought her peace and taught her much. While her gift and mental tranquility were honed in that way, she practised the physical aspect much more sparingly as it reminded her of Nikky.
She would have done anything for him, back then, even when she understood so little of the feeling in her chest when she made him smile. It was similar to fondness but so different from the one she felt for her mother or people - and it had only grown. How could she ever have known it was going to root so deep within her that it never quite faded away?
It made it difficult to see him every night at the end of what must have been a busy day indeed, exhausted almost beyond relief. She knew he experienced night terrors but nothing of what they were. She saw the fear in his eyes when she'd move even slightly away from his side. There was a boy beneath man, soldier and king and he was terrified of all of this. Of things behind his eyes that she couldn't begin to imagine. Having never experienced the harrowing effects of war, all she had was compassion for the Ravkans and all that they had lost.
Of all of them, Nikky was her first and foremost priority. His pain was a weight on her shoulders, too. And he'd barely passed a smile since the Fjerdan letter was brought to his attention, according to Alina. He trained with the army all day, strategising with his top officials and returned to her, aching and drained, by night. His nightmares were so bad now that he begged her not to make him sleep, to stick with him till morning, telling him stories.
The night she caught him scratching at himself to keep awake, Ixora had resorted to using her powers to force his unconsciousness. Whatever he saw as he dreamt was driving him mad but a lack of sleep would only worsen the insanity.
No one saw that side of him but her. And every single night, she would go and she would put him to sleep, no matter how desperately he begged her to let him stay up, far away from his cruel subconscious. She could remember when she'd finally decided to do something about it, still unsure of which caused it; his outburst or the unexpected intimacy.
Nikolai murmured tiredly to himself, stilling when she shut the door behind her. He blinked twice, his eyes in a haze and then put on the weakest excuse for a smile she had seen in a while, running a hand through his hair.
"Tell me, Zora... I must look so good right now, don't I?"
"You're always handsome, your highness. Always, sir."
"Sir? Formalities, princess? What have I done to deserve that?" She inched away from him, hating that the feeling of his hand cupping her jaw brought her anxiety instead of warmth or pleasure. Perhaps she wouldn't have minded if he wasn't heavily intoxicated. He'd snuck some wine into the room, trying to drink his pain away and she'd come in and taken it from him much too late to stop the grape from taking effect. "Are you... Mad at me...?"
"Nikky, no. Of course not."
"You deserve to be. I've been... Awful to you. I'm supposed to make you happy and laugh and I'm... I'm meant to be the king. And handle things well. And not be weakened by a stupid thing that won't-" he slammed a hand into his chest where the creature's weakening influence has spread to, grunting in pain when it throbbed in response. "Just die. I have no strength left in me, my Ixora. I am... I am sorry. I'm sorry you have to see me like this. And take care of me. I should just release you of your services."
"It is not a service. I am here because I choose to be, not because I hope to gain some payment or laughter out of it. Do you really think you mean so little to me, Nikky?" She gazed at him, waiting for a response. The shy lowering of his head was enough of an answer for her. "Just... Be quiet. And please. Don't talk about you dying, okay? Don't think about it, either. My heart couldn't take it."
"Even after everything? Why? How can you not see what a better place my country would be if I was gone? Because I've begun to consider it. The Sun Summoner could rule in my stead; the Saint that saved us all. She would destroy the general's troops with a single beam of blinding light; one swish of her hand. I do admire her power... I wish... I wish I had something. The way you both do. So I could protect my people. Protect myself. Protect you. Not be a burden everyone else dies to save."
"Nobody is a burden. Not to the people who love them."
"You... Love me then, Ixora?" She let out a faint laugh, hoping it drowned out the sound of her torrid heartbeat. God, to say such a thing. Now of all times when he was drunk and out of control and worrying her to death every time she looked at him. Ixora ignored his words, hoping he would simply forget in the morning but Nikolai rose a hand to her cheek, determined to talk about it. A breathy sigh later, she let her eyes flicker open with deep hesitance, meeting those of her doey-eyed old friend who gazed at her with some silly mix of awe and curiosity.
"I care for you deeply. Who wouldn't? Your people love you, Nikky and we all need you. I need you," she whispered, her voice steadying as she let a small piece of her feelings shine through. The relief she felt was overpowering, almost tempting her to say more. To tell him that perhaps her words were deeper than they seemed on the surface. But she could not.
Not when his soft blue eyes were drowned in duller waters. Not when alcohol laced his tongue, influencing his every sense and thought.
"You... Need me..."
"Nikky... Return to me, your majesty. You seem lost."
"I am not. For the first time in... It's only when you're around that I feel even slightly like I have an anchor, Ixora. Only with you. Holding onto you is the best way to keep my sanity intact and then you - and then you go ahead and tell a pathetic man like this that you need him? I... You are making this hard, old friend. So very, very hard..."
She frowned, her concern for him radiating even stronger. Nikolai saw it flash in her eyes as she glanced over him, watched it morph rapidly into shock when he pulled himself closer. "What on earth are you doing?"
She was stiff, now. Why on earth was she so frozen in place? Did she not want this? Want him? Did she not feel the same way he did every time they were in a room together; the thing that crackled, unacknowledged, in the too-wide space between them? He nudged her head a little higher, breathing her in as he let himself get even closer to the woman who his shadow had ripped apart so many times within his head. He felt like he was spiralling. Like he was going mad and perhaps she could be the antidote.
She didn't stop him. She couldn't. She knew she should have, knew this was all only happening because he was drunk and she was a warm body that was near enough to be worth considering. Logic screamed against the walls of her mind, begging her to rethink things even as she stayed utterly still, wanting his majesty to do as he pleased with her.
That made it hurt even more for both of them when he stopped himself, withdrawing from her, an empty expression taking over his features.
"I... I cannot protect you from this. Any of it. Or from me. Ravka... This is not your home, Ixora. You need to go back."
"What are you saying, moi tsar?"
"Your mother. I'm sure she must miss you-"
"Do not bring my mother into this! You were about to- we were about to- you know what?! Nevermind. I'm a fool. Nay, I'm the fool of the saints-damned year because I thought that- for a moment, I..."
Flashes played behind his eyes like a film trick. The coronation. Ixora lying much too still in the medical ward, hardly any life in her. The demon within his body cutting her up over and over and over. He inched even farther away, tears lining his eyes. And when her rage changed to concern with the flick of a flame, he almost gnashed his teeth at the overwhelming amount of compassion she could hold for such a cowardly bastard.
"You are not safe here. Please..."
"Tsar... Ravka will be fine. It will be fine because you rule it. There can be nowhere safer because if I did return home like you suggest, I would worry myself to death, wondering if anyone were looking after you."
"And who will look after you, Ixora? Is it me?! You're so damn naive, I-" she swallowed, letting her gaze fall to the ground. Nikolai froze suddenly, knowing she did not hear it the way he had meant it; did not know the danger perched so closely and reached towards her, yet, maintaining a great chasm of distance as if he could comfort her better apart. "Love... You are not safe with me. That is what I meant..."
"How could I not be safe with you? Why are you being ridiculous, Nikky? You would never hurt me. You have been with yourself for decades of life. If anyone should know you are incapable of hurting those who do not deserve it, it should be you!"
"I don't know who I am, these days," he whispered with a wry smile. "And that is why you must go."
She gazed at him, her mouth hung open for a moment. And then she laughed in his face, shaking her head softly as if this was some sort of game. Nikolai searched for a way to convince her that didn't involve showing her what was growing within him. His eyes spotted the fine, royal ceramics on one end of his room and he made a mad dash at them, turning to her with desperation in his eyes as he threw the first one.
"YOU MUST GO! YOU- YOU MUST LEAVE! I CANNOT KNOW YOU ARE SAFE UNLESS YOU ARE AS FAR AWAY FROM THIS... FROM ME... AS POSSIBLE, IXORA! CAN'T YOU SEE I'M MAD?! CAN YOU NOT TELL THAT I DO NOT! WANT YOU HERE!" she watched him silently, flinching away as object upon object broke by his hand. He screamed as much as he could manage, until his body began to droop from the exertion, the crashing and screaming coming to an abrupt, bitter end.
And he waited. For her to leave. For her to scream at him. For fire, brimstone and hopefully, abandonment.
"I know I say you are stupid quite often, moi tsar. But I believe this is the first time in some time that I will truly mean it. Do you think a tantrum is the way to get rid of me? You spent my entire stay at Ravka the first time I came trying to scare me and get me the hell away from my books by any trickster means necessary. I came back the very next year after begging my mother to bring me again, disgusted by my excitement to see you. The first person to ever pay me so much attention. And I've been waiting all these years, too... This little show only brings me some painful nostalgia. The boy prince who thought he'd spend his days in play and more play. How the world has made him hide... Under so many layers. But there you are again. Just as adorable and utterly ridiculous as you once were."
"Saints..." She took his hand firmly, guiding him to the washroom. He hadn't noticed the cut on his hand until that moment. It took him even longer to realise she was crying for him, by which time she'd tucked him into bed already and guilt ate him up inside. She wasn't going to leave. He knew that, now. The fact filled him with an overwhelming amount of joy and trepidation, twisting his stomach about in the most bittersweet way.
"I do not worship the saints, unlike many where I am from. I believe they were simply zowa that decided to do the extraordinary. But before and even when they were raised to this saint status, they were just people. People who cared. And many who risk everything for the lives of others die every day. There are saints all around us. There is a saint in every one of us. A Darkling as well but that doesn't mean we do not have the power to choose light over dark."
"What if the dark is overwhelming? What if it seeps into everything, every part of my soul. It was so little in me, before but now... My anger. My vengeance. It consumes me sometimes, butterfly."
"I know, bird. I know. It is not something to be ashamed of. You have every right to feel through the pain at the bottom of those dark emotions... Did I ever tell you the story of our Saint? Saint Koko? He was a widowed, tired, quiet old man. But when the wildlings came to feast on our village, he rose up, left home with promise to return and he cut them down. Afterwards, he selected the few cubs that remained and domesticated them. Never again would they come to us as enemies; they are seen as sacred protectors of our community, now. Use your anger and your darkness where it is necessary. But when the time comes, Nikolai, you must choose compassion. Choose peace."
"How will I know which to pick?"
"Because you are you. And I know you will make the right choice, old friend."
"Zora..."
"Good night, moi tsar."
To her surprise, Ixora woke up the morning after to a plate of cooked fish and a smiling Nikolai. Her heart swelled though she knew this was not a lovestruck visit but an apology. She was drawn back into the night before, when he had pulled her to himself with such sweet sincerity, then asked her to leave him and never return in scarcely a different breath. Her eyes fluttered shut as she calmed her breathing, then she smiled at him. And he returned it, weak, yet sure.
"So... What is this?"
"Breakfast. I... Made it myself. Being a pirate doesn't afford you too much variety at times but... I learnt how to do more than sit and wait for food to be served to me. I believe that is something." She arched a brow, curious about his skill and took a bite. A gorgeous moan left her lips, leaving Nikolai flustered, momentarily dazed and deeply grateful for pulling through what he'd at first thought was a silly idea.
"You are... Rather good at this. I'd call my cooking decent but this here is masterful work. I suppose you were captain for a reason, Sturmhond." There was a seductive twist to her lips that caused him to swallow as he attempted to form a fitting response, sans the tenderness blossoming in his throat.
"Perhaps I'll show you how to prepare it some time."
"Perhaps? You must! I'd love to watch you in action," she teased, her eyes lighting up. He grinned in reply, luckily much too far from her bed to give into temptation, lean a bit closer and kiss her soundly. A dark cloud hung over him quite suddenly as he remembered himself, inching towards the door.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to disturb your sleep and I do hope I didn't intrude by simply waltzing in here without permission."
"I thought I told you before that Sturmhond is always welcome. That invitation will always extend to you, bird. You two are one and the same in my eyes."
"...thank you, butterfly. But I really must go."
"Alright, then. I have a day ahead of me, as well. You'll be receiving your surprise next! I only hope you will like it."
"Then I await it with bated breath, moya tsarevna. And I... I shall miss you, Ixora."
"I shall miss you, too, bird. Dearly. In fact, I already do- uh- be safe. Stay... Safe. For me." She lowered her head, wondering why on earth she had to add that last part. If she had dared take a peek, she would have caught his smile the largest she'd seen it in some time.
"As long as you do me the same kindness, my butterfly."