Chapter Text
"HOLD FIRE!" Zoya yelled, blade upright in the cold Fjerdan air. Her long, raven black hair blew behind her, icy dew mixed with sweat and grime clinging to its locks.
They were situated on an embankment close to the Ravkan border. Zoya had lead the charge for the skirmish, and the battle had been fierce, grisha clashing heavily with druskelle.
The Fjerdans had flattened the earth with their blasts of fire and heavy tanks, but the Ravkans had trained hard and long so that they could face the evils Brum conjured, and it had paid off.
The druskelle were retreating, abandoning any dead weight and sprinting back through the forest. Many of her grisha forces had made to follow and cut off their retreat, archers and shooters in the trees firing shot after shot mercilessly. Zoya's command had slowed their fire.
The War General turned to her Lieutenant. "Allow their retreat, but send a small group to tail them for recon. Our stealthiest fighters only." Adrik nodded and took off.
She hissed suddenly as a searing pain lurched through her side. It had been a few days since she had been hit by a blast from a Fjerdan grenade. Shrapnel had pierced her below the chest, digging deep and wide. She had paused only long enough to freeze it shut and had then returned to the fight. Since then it had ached more and more frequently, demanding her attention. She cursed loudly.
Captain Tolya approached her. "Go back to Ravka and heal. There won't be another battle for a while now. The Fjerdans have suffered a huge loss and will need to rethink their strategies."
He saw the telltale signs of the General about to argue and quickly added, "You'll do us no good if you recklessly allow your injury to worsen."
Reckless. She couldn't help but think how much that word seemed to suit her lately.
She sighed in defeat. She needed to return anyway, to brief the king and revise their tactics. "You will take my command. Hold the bank until the ships arrive. I will take the wounded back home, and return in five days time. Can you manage?"
~~~~~~~~~~
Nikolai paced in his study, his mind racing after the message he'd received five minutes earlier.
"We've had news, Your Highness. General Nazyalensky will be arriving back in the city by the evening. Acting General Tolya has requested that a healer be ready to receive her."
She'd been hurt. How? She was Zoya for Saintssake! He trusted that she could look after herself. Knowing that she was injured again, so soon after her previous injury had him rethinking how carefree he had always been about her welfare.
He went about his day on autopilot, pushing his worry to the back of his mind to concentrate when he needed to. He charmed his way through a meeting with the priests of Tsemna. He negotiated a deal with Duke Radimov to fund the opening of a new school of learning for children, in exchange for a seat in trade meetings with the Zemeni. He sat with Tamar and David and smoothed out kinks in their plans for the izmars'ya and parem antidote.
In other words, he distracted himself.
He'd only just managed to perfect his charm once more during a meeting with the leader of a far town when the messenger reappeared announcing the return of fifteen wounded soldiers.
Genya stepped in, relaying orders for the housing and care of the wounded as Nikolai hurriedly made his excuses and exited. He'd have to thank Genya later.
Once he was clear of the building he ran, taking quieter paths and hidden entryways as his legs brought him closer to the Little Palace. By the time he reached her door he was sweaty and his nerves were wrecked. Only Zoya could make him lose his composure in this way still.
A part of him wished he'd never let himself fall this far, so quickly. He could have kept her at arms length for longer, if not for the Fold. Seeing her fall, seeing her drown, it had forced him to realise his fear of losing her.
Better he went than she did. Her loss was something he did not ever want to bear.
He removed his gloves, squeezing them into a pocket, then knocked softly. "Zoya? Are you in there?"
The door opened slightly and he entered hesitantly. She was seated in the centre of her bed, her legs crossed and eyes fixed on pages of what looked to be handwritten notes scattered about her. She did not look up as she began to talk.
"We've placed men on the eastern side of the border, and the river line. The skirmish at the embankment was a success but I don't like how easy it was. Brum let us have it too quickly before retreating. I think we should re-examine our current strategy."
She was always business first. "I met with David and Tamar today and we've come up with an idea for an underwater attack. We'll add your concerns to tomorrow morning's briefings in the war room. We can review your notes then too. Zoya, they told me you were injured. Has the healer attended to you yet?"
She scowled. "We should look at the intelligence again tonight, not tomorrow."
"Fine," he said, not caring. "Where were you hurt?"
She looked up finally. "I wasn't injured," she said, gaze shifting back to her notes. But he saw she had adjusted her position to favour her left side. He edged closer, and without warning poked her right where he felt it would hurt most.
She jumped and he was knocked to the floor by a gust of wind.
"Touch me again at your own peril!" she hissed angrily, hand pressed to her wound.
"You threaten your caring king far too often, you know. And I would feel bad about the poke except I'm trying to be more annoyed that you lied, than worried that you jumped higher than Tolya when he sees food."
"Why do I put up with you again?"
Still on the floor he pressed his hair down with one hand and smiled charmingly. "It's my stunning good looks and charismatic personality. How else do you think I've survived assassination?"
"I'd imagine my blade had something to do with that too," Zoya replied dryly.
Crossing his own legs, he leaned back on his palms, still smiling. Zoya looked like she wanted to knock him down again. He hoped she'd do it personally this time.
"There's that glint in your eyes again dear. That treasonous one that means you're considering going through with one of your sweet threats."
"It's nice to know you've been paying attention, Your Highness."
"Always, for you." She snorted. "But don't think you've distracted me. Your wound?"
"It's fine, Nikolai. I froze it shut and it should last until tomorrow after the war meeting." He looked about to interrupt so she added, "I will have it seen to straight afterwards. I promise."
He sighed. "Is there no way to convince you to see a healer earlier?" She shook her head. "Very well. But on one condition - after I leave for today I want to you take the evening off and actually sleep. Do we have a deal?"
"Fine," she bit out. He'd be gone though and what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "Come and see these notes."
He joined her on the bed and they began searching through her writing for clues as to what Brum was planning. The hours passed by as they compared notes, adding comments and writing down their thoughts.
The sun burned lower and lower in the sky, the night beckoning.
They'd shifted closer over time and Zoya was now inches away. Nikolai found himself taking in her beauty. How her face scrunched up while reading small lettering, and how her eyes grew brighter yet narrower when she neared a discovery.
'This,' he thought, 'this is how it should be. Zoya and I.' He'd missed her presence terribly. He'd missed afternoons and evenings like these spent together with her.
"I've missed you." He'd spoken inadvertently but he found he didn't regret it. She would be the one to bring up his proposal again, if she wished, but he thought he could at least tell her this.
Her face softened. "I would miss me too if I'd been stuck with dull David for company."
He laughed. "He's been helpful but his heart is with the labs, and wherever Genya is."
"As ever," she agreed and the comfortable silence between them returned, but Zoya had begun to fidget. Every now and again she would look up as if to speak, then think better of it. If he tried to look at her she would scowl until he looked away again.
He was about to give in and call it a night when she finally spoke.
"I... I thought about what you said before. About how you felt." He stilled. "I've had a lot to think about. How we may feel comes second to our duty to Ravka and my hopes to help the grisha."
"We are agreed on this," he replied lightly.
"But it's not only that... courting you would be difficult, let alone becoming Queen. I would have to change. A queen needs to smile and charm people, just as you do. I prefer to scare those who irritate me."
"I haven't noticed."
She rolled her eyes. "I would also be expected to give up my active role in the war, and sit around bearing your children."
He spoke carefully. "It's true that an heir would be expected, but I would never ask you to be less than who you are. Ravkan queens were like that in the past and it did us no favours. A queen who cares about protecting her people and is seen doing so is what we need. Zoya, the future I see with you is of a Ravka so strong and alive our enemies envy us."
"You dream so easily still, but these obstacles are only a few of many."
"Climbing a mountain of challenges is nothing new for us. There's always more in Ravka."
"And what if it doesn't work out and we grow to hate each other?"
"Then we will return to a working relationship, though I do not see that eventuality happening."
"I will not grow old as you do Nikolai."
He met her eyes. "I do not fear that."
She continued to war with herself but Nikolai still hadn't heard what he needed from her.
"Forget all of that for a moment. Forget everyone else - just for a moment," he interrupted her. "Can you do that?"
She inclined her head slowly, cautiously.
He continued, "I want you to imagine we are back in the Fold, and I am once more preparing to battle my monster. We don't know what might happen next, or if we'll even survive." He took her hands in his. Her expression grew grave, and hard. "Finish saying what you had begun to say." He had wanted nothing more ever since.
"Don't die," she commanded immediately. The king snorted. She lifted his hand in hers and cupped it to her cheek, just as it had been that day. Her eyes closed. "Don't die," she repeated. "Not just because Ravka needs you, but for me too. I need you. I don't want to serve any other king. No one else could compare. And I don't want to be queen... not ever without you."
His thumb stroked her cheek, and Zoya opened her eyes. "I would have done it, Nikolai. When you gave me Ravka I would have spent my life fighting for it, and nothing else. But I would have never become queen. I wouldn't have considered it. Is that enough of an answer for you?"
It was. Her honesty had him floored. "Will you allow me to court you Zoya?"
Her eyes were wet and she closed them again before nodding once.
The weight of years seemed to fall off the king. He released her cheek and fell back, head hitting soft pillows as he exhaled dramatically. "Finally. You know how to keep a king waiting, Nazyalenksy." She kicked his leg. "Ow!"
"It's good for you to wait every now and then," she laughed, and to his amazement she lay down carefully next to him, head turned on her pillow to face him.
"Let's take this slow. We don't need to rush into anything, or think about the future." He took her hand again. "Just you and me, for a while."
"Just you and me? With Ravka and the war surrounding us? Impossible."
"Improba-” Nikolai choked as the air went thin.
"Saints help me."
He huffed a laugh of his own and pressed a kiss to her hand. "We don't need them."
She relaxed, agreeing silently. They would work it out, as they always had. Together.