Work Text:
“I want to love you simply,
in words not spoken:
tinder to the flame which transforms it to ash
I want to love you simply,
in signs not expressed:
clouds to the rain which make them evanescent."
ーSapardi Djoko Damono, I Want.
Love, they say, was a very simple thing . Love was the gaze of your lovers as they see you across the table. It was the touched they gave, hesitating before their finger tangled, a soft thing shared between two people; sacred and intimate.
To her, love was never an option. It had been, once upon a time. A time when she could go back to Novokribirsk and share tea with Lilyana, when Lada was there to greet her and make a painting of them three, taking extra care to put the blue of Zoya's kefta right.
“They have to be the same color as your eyes, an eye of a storm,” she would say. And Zoya would mess her hair up, in awe but also couldn't help but tease this little girl who grew up so fast, maturing above her age.
And then in a single time, she lost it all.
People talk about her: harden, steel, and unaffected. Cold. Truth was she never felt it because when she saw the ruins, her heart became empty. And those emptiness she carried over in her life, the little boat drawn on her room--a reminder of Lada's--sat as the only thing that pull her chests tight. But she preserved.
People grieve differently; and she chose to swallowed her tears. She found out then when you swallowed sadness, it became anger, and when you swallowed grief, it became rage.
But rage was familiar. Rage was a storm knocking outside her windows at night, haunting and inviting. She could handle storms; the merciless thing, the beautiful thing which was a deadly weapon in her hand. She herself was a storm, merciless by nature, and destructive in force.
Storms left nothing behind, and neither did she.
***
It was Genya who, quietly and patiently, crack her first. Their.....companionship was not a smooth road, Zoya admits. Zoya was almost a stranger to kindness, it was always seemed fake (she heard Genya calling her a bitch to Alina, and at times, on her face), and then she scoffed on her presence.
Genya never cared, though. Her presence was almost a fresh breath Zoya always hoped. Genya was neither intimated nor bothered to showered her with compliments. She was simply there. There when they made the biggest mistake trusting The Darkling, when she heard Zoya pacing in her room after Novokribrisk, when they parted way with Alina, blue kefta in hand, ensuring her she would always be a part of them, Sun Summoner or not.
Genya was there--many times, when she was vulnerable. Some of it were comedic if not shameful. Like the time she was so drunk, she asked Genya to tailor her hair blond. And according to Genya, she not only asked, she begged, and then threaten, which was why she finally relented.
“Sober you are dangerous, but drunk you are both hilarious and dangerous,” she said, grinning when she took out the hair dye the morning after.
"Sober Zoya would threaten to fry me out, drunk you really tried to fry me out, honestly, I was kind of scared," she said finishing turning her hair black again.
Concern lit Zoya's face."Did I hurt you?"
"No, because when I say you tried, that means you couldn't even walk straight to do that. I was concerned, but you're waving your hands is hilarious," she continued with a laugh, and Zoya felt her face redden. Three bottles of kvas and that's it, she remembered. No more accidents.
"To be honest, you looked magnificent," she said, as if regretting her choices to take out the dye.
Zoya wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I looked cheap," she said with such venom it makes Genya laugh.
And it makes Zoya laugh, too. That moment she knew Genya was a cloud, one that always appeared after storms, a guarantee that she will always be there, no matter how merciless she became.
And so, when she left for the journey, she hugged her. For she couldn't find any words that could express her feeling. Like the clouds disappearing without signs of a rainy day. She wanted to have this moment, a little vulnerability, a chance to trust someone.
She never said anything, but Genya understands.
***
Nikolai was a whole different story. He was blinding to most people, though Zoya begs to differ. His charms got nothing on her, she already saw him on every stage, from the charming prince to the humbled one covered in goose's shit. She had read every face he made, the one that he put to be diplomatic, the one that he put in front of his friends, the one that he put when he wanted to outsmart someone.
She knew him, and she didn't. There were always part of him that surprises her, his only ability to make him stayed on her mind. She knew that she probably do this because he is Ravka's King, and as his General, it was always her best interest.
She also knew that feelings are messy, and they tangled up when they were not supposed to be. Not only that, but she noticed the look he gave her, the look she had seen in so many men before. She also recognized the pang in her chest when he went missing.
She remembered the time they were fighting the Saints, of how confident she became when she knew that he had her back. Furthermore, she didn't miss his teasing, though she always met them with a scowl. Didn't forget how much seeing him at Elizaveta's makeshift thorns make her heart beat fast, and so did he, according to the Saints.
Things between them was fire, and it consumed both of them rapidly, leaving only hierarchy as a barricade. She was sure that they both had thought 'to hell with Ravka', but that line of thought would probably curse them.
"I thought brooding is my specialty." a familiar voice said. Zoya sighed, knowing that today is going to be a long day with him.
"Not brooding. Just....thinking," she replied, head still turned into the window. Nikolai reached for the samovar, pouring them both a cup of tea. Hers first. Always the gentleman.
She took her cup and eyed him carefully. He looked cheerful today, which put a smile on her face as well. At the very least, it meant there were no trouble in their tasks. And then they fall into their rhythm again. Passing documents, discussing politics, his flirting and her biting remark.
It was easy, it was familiar. It was what right in her mind. It was, and would always be, unsaid.
For if they say it, it would burn the world to ash.
***
Zoya wanted to love,
As simple as trust,
As complicated as feelings,
As messy as herself.
She wanted to love simply.
***