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Chapter Text

Zoya Nazyalensky was not born to be queen. At least, that's what she told herself. Even as the months passed, she found the job didn't get any easier, and it showed. The dark circles under her eyes were more prominent, her skin was breaking out, her hair less shiny, yet she was still as beautiful as always. At least she had that going for her.

She turned the corner to the main hall where she would be meeting the Kerch representative for a meeting on their debts, Nikolai on her left, Genya flanking her right. The last time she met with Hiram Schenck hadn't gone very well, she could still remember the scent of fine wine on his breath, the condescending look on his face when he thought he had Ravka cornered. She was less than excited with the idea of having to deal with Schenck again, but she sucked it up, held her chin high, and sat down at the table in the chair across from him. Genya and Nikolai take a seat on either side of her, both looking just as pleased as Zoya with meeting Schenck.

"Moya Tsaritsa, it is an honor to meet once more," He said, his Ravkan thick with a Kerch accent.

"The honor is mine," Zoya replied, doing her best to plaster a smile on her face. It's unlike her to be this friendly when meeting ambassadors, but the Kerch negotiation was too important to leave to chance. She was ready to shamelessly flirt and charm the representative if it meant helping Ravka, even though those weren't her strong suits.

Schenck took a moment to smooth his lapels before bringing a stack of papers. Zoya began to grit her teeth as she realized she was looking at the plans for the ismars'ya.

"Queen Zoya, we have tried our best to give you leniency on Ravkas' loans, but the Merchant Council cannot forgive such high debts with nothing in return," He said, a smirk hinting at his lips.

"We've already given you the plans to the ismars'ya, what else do you want?" Zoya replied, trying to keep her face straight.

"That's the funny thing, we've been using the submersibles for months, yet Novyi Zems economy has been thriving," He answered, while Zoya tried to hide her shock. Everyone knew it was the Kerch attacking Zemeni ships, but no one dared to say it out loud, that was grounds for starting a war.

"What are you implying," Zoya said carefully. She could feel her voice beginning to raise, and Nikolai, who had been silent up until now, slipped his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze. He gave her a warning glance and she tried to calm down.

"Nothing, just that the whole situation seems quite suspicious. It would be quite convenient for Ravka if their greatest ally managed to keep their trades going," Schenck replied.

"Let's not start jumping to conclusions. Ravka has nothing to do with this, you should be meeting with the Zemeni if you think they're up to something," She deflected, hoping she could divert the conversation.

"Kerch relations with the Zemeni are not relevant to the conversation right now, I came here to see if you had any knowledge on the situation. It would be quite the shame if your loan interest were to increase again," He said, seeing right through her.

"We haven't heard anything about this up until now, Ravka doesn't interfere with the politics of other countries," Zoya said, trying to deflect suspicion once more.

Schenck nodded. "The Merchant Council appreciates that, just remember where your loyalties lie," He replied, standing up. He pulled out a Makkers cigarette and lit it while Zoya remained in her chair. She had always hated the smell of those, Makker should have stuck to making wheels.

Zoya stood up and began to walk Schenck to the door, when she felt him place a hand on her shoulder, his breath thick with the smell of smoke. She tensed as he whispered "We wouldn't want your precious ismars'ya turned against Ravka, wouldn't we." She did nothing other than shrug his hand off her, giving him a little shock in the process. He was being foolish anyways, Nikolai always had a backup plan.

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Nikolai hadn't prepared himself for the role of adviser. He was the charmer, so used to being able to interject whenever he wanted, but now he was at Zoyas' side all the time, only speaking to offer a suggestion or two when she asked. He was still often recognized, being the former king does that to you, but he hadn't realized how used he was to the privileges of being royalty, and the respect that came with it.

He followed Zoya out of the main hall, who was practically fuming after Schenck had said something Nikolai didn't hear. She was snapping at any guards in the way and he knew better than to question Zoya about it when other people were around, so he settled for asking Genya.

"Maybe he hit on her," She speculated, "It happens often enough."

"I doubt it. It never gets her that worked up," Nikolai replied

"Zoya's been grumpier than usual, maybe she finally got fed up."

"She's always grumpy. Besides, she wouldn't get that angry in front of others if it were something as common as that."

"No one's safe from her trademark temper," Genya said, right before she turned the corner into the hall that led to the little palace.

Zoya and Nikolai walked in silence as they approached her chambers. They stopped at the doors and stood there, neither of them knew what to say. Eventually, Nikolai spoke up.

"What happened back there with Schenck," He asked.

"Nothing," Zoya said, her voice weary. She seemed to sound like that more and more recently.

"Clearly something happened, you never act like that in public," Nikolai prodded.

She walked into her bedroom and flopped on the bed. He laid next to her just as they had both once done on the ship from Ketterdam.

"Please, Zoya. Talk to me."

"Schenck threatened us."

"We can handle any empty threats they throw at us."

"The Kerch don't give out empty threats."

They were silent for a moment.

"That's it?" Nikolai asked.

Zoya hesitated. "I don't know. There's something about that guy that always gets me so worked up. Maybe it's the cigarettes."

"Makker's cigarettes," He chuckled, "absolutely unbearable."

Zoya just offered him a small smile in return.

Later, Nikolai left for his chambers. They were much smaller than what he was used to, but he warmed up to it. A lot cozier than the massive rooms royalty slept in, but he still missed them sometimes. He willingly gave up the crown but he couldn't always shake away that feeling of longing for his old life. It wasn't just the luxury, he still had plenty of that, but being able to feel useful. He had no authority in the government anymore, so he tried to spend more time down at the Gilded Bog, but work has been slow there ever since the death of David. His mind would turn to the only other way he could help. Sturmhond. But he couldn't leave, not now. As much as she tried to hide it, Zoya was taking a toll from her new job. He hadn't realized how hard it would be for someone who wasn't raised in the court. Plus, Nikolai had made a promise to her when she asked him to be her advisor, that he would stay by her side through thick and thin, that she wouldn't have to be alone through it all. He still craved the feeling of sea spray on his face though.

Nikolai climbed into bed determined to stay, to live a long, happy life with Zoya. His old crewmates were right though, If you keep Sturmhond inland for too long, he starts to go crazy.

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Zoya was still lying on her bed when Nikolai left. As she changed into her nightgown, she wondered if Nikolai had been able to see through her. As much as she hated to admit it, Schencks' words began to worry her. A lot of things seemed to worry her these days, she thought being general would be enough to prepare her for queen, but she didn't expect the workload it would come with. Nikolai was always so suave, made it look so easy, but she was far from Nikolai.

The next day was just as jam-packed as the last, filled to the brim with conferences and public appearances. Zoya started getting dressed, the familiar feel of her kefta comforting her. She often found herself running her fingers over its embroidery, which she had changed after her training with Juris. The embroidery around the collar was still intricately woven silver, but as it went down her kefta it shifted, to grey, blue, purple, red, and back to silver around the hem. Nikolai insisted shows of power was the right way to win over the public, but Zoya hadn't wanted to give up her blue kefta just yet, so she settled for switching the embroidery to represent her mastery of other grisha skills. She had begun training her summoner powers, and even spent time in the fabrikator labs honing her durast and alkemi skills, but there were still 2 colors she had yet to add to her kefta.

Gold was never worn on her kefta because she hadn't bothered to see if she could summon light. Now that the Darkling was vanquished, she had no use for the powers, but it was more than that. The people had loved Sol Koroleva and the warm light she had brought over Ravka, yet they called Zoya the stormwitch, a grisha sorceress. She already had a bit of imposter syndrome from her new role as Queen, the last thing she needed was for people to start comparing her to Alina even more if they found out she could potentially be a sun summoner. Although, if you looked close enough, you could see the gold thread holding her kefta together.

The only other color her kefta didn't have was black. Heartrending powers were something she had yet to try, testing it on somebody without training was too risky, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know what went on in the anatomy rooms. Black was also the color of the Darkling, the man who murdered the only family that loved her. He had manipulated and toyed with her, validated her, made her feel worthy when no one else would, and then stripped it all away. Words could not begin to describe the pain he had caused her and many others, yet every night when she closed her eyes, she saw his face. He was always there, dressed in black, perfect posture, taunting her, teasing her, mocking her. Her greatest fear was ending up like him, and now that she was Queen, it was all the more likely. It wasn't just taunting, he would plead with her, reason with her, explain himself. As each day passed, a growing terror started overtaking her as she began to realize she started to understand him and justify his actions. Zoya had scared herself when Schenck threatened her, her first thought had been to smite him where he stood, unable to keep her cool. It was unlike her, but just like him. She felt herself slipping into her old life, a desperate girl wanting appreciation, wanting love, seeking it from him. The Darkling had been all too eager to give it to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a knock on her door. Before she could even answer, the door swung open and Nikolai barged in. She sighed. Some things never changed. Even after losing his status, Nikolai still walked around like he owned the place.

"What are you doing here so early in the morning?" She asked.

"I don't really have anywhere else to be," He replied with a shrug.

"Wow, you didn't even come here to say good morning to your girlfriend?"

"That too," He said, pulling her in for a quick kiss. Zoya couldn't help but smile.

"So, what do we have lined up for today?" Nikolai asked, pulling something out of his pocket and fiddling absentmindedly with it.

"Some meetings, then I have to head out to Poliznaya for a speech."

"Uh-huh," He said, looking out the window, clearly not paying attention.

"Nikolai, are you listening?" She asked. Sure he was hyper but he never ignored her like this.

"Yeah," He said, his head snapping to her.

"No you're not. If you have something on your mind, just say it."

Nikolai paused for a second before saying, "Do you think I could get the week off?"

"Why?" Zoya asked, furrowing her brows.

"Are you telling me I can't take vacation days?"

"I'm not saying that, I'm just wondering why it came out of nowhere."

"It's not out of nowhere, this is something I've been thinking about for a while."

"Okay," Zoya said carefully, "Do you think you could wait a few more weeks? I really need you right now."

"Do you?" Nikolai replied, his voice surprisingly bitter.

Zoya was shocked. "Of course I do."

"As your assistant," he said, looking back at the window.

"Are you mad at me Nikolai? What did I do?" Zoya said, trying to make her voice as gentle as possible.

"Nothing!" He snapped, regret immediately washing over his face.

Zoyas' patience was getting worn thin. "Tell me what's wrong or stop wasting my time."

"I want to go back out on the sea. As Sturmhond."

There was a pause between them. Nikolai looked at his feet and stopped fidgeting, very unlike him. When he looked up Zoya was staring at him, her face blank.

"Now of all times?" She asked

"What else do you want me to do here? Follow you around all day like a dog? I want to be Sturmhond, not Sobachka."

"Who else will have my back? I can't do this alone, I'm not a diplomat."

"You'll still have Genya. Besides, you barely even need me anymore, you went the whole Kerch negotiation without even asking for my opinion."

"And look how that turned out."

"All I'm asking for is a week, that's not too unreasonable-"

"Fine," Zoya spat out. She didn't know why she was getting so angry over this. She didn't know why she felt a lot of things lately. All she knew was that she needed him. 

"If you're going to be this mad about it, I can stay."

"Take the month for all I care. I don't want you here if you're going to keep whining about this." She said, her voice failing at masking her emotions. She always found herself reverting to her old self during arguments, pushing everyone away.

"I don't whine, I pout at best. And I look very handsome doing it." Nikolai said, trying to lead the conversation back to their old routine of teasing and bickering.

"Just get out," Zoya said, her voice deadpan. It was too early in the morning for this.

Nikolai looked hurt, but he left the room without another word.

Zoya was a queen, she couldn't waste time on petty squabbles with Nikolai. He was right after all, she was getting mad over a reasonable request.

She curled up on her bed and pressed her palms to her eyes, trying to stop herself from crying. "You're being dramatic." She told herself. That didn't stop the tears from falling.

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Nikolai started packing his stuff as soon as he reached his room. If Zoya didn't want him there he wasn't going to stay. As he threw whatever essentials he would need into a small bag, he felt a little guilt wash over him. Zoya was partially right after all, he knew from experience that the job was hard and must be even worse for her. She was always trying to hide it, but he could see right through her. Nikolai shoved his feelings aside as he headed out the door to the stables. He walked down the halls knowing that this might be the last time he saw them for a while. The stables were on the other side of the building, so he had plenty of time to say his goodbyes to his friends before leaving. He had to hurry, he knew Privyet would be docking in Os Kervo in a week or so, and he was going on horseback to avoid suspicion. As Nikolai mounted Punchline and rode out of the stables, he took one final look at the Grand Palace before riding off into the day.

The trip was long and tiring, his legs sore from riding, but eventually he reached Os Kervo and booked an inn for the night. As he huddled by a fireplace, he started going through his bag, and was surprised to feel a soft material in his hand. He pulled it out and saw it was the blue velvet ribbon in his hand. He stroked it between his fingers as he looked at the fire and considered throwing it there as Zoya had once done to the portrait of his father. After a few moments he decided against it and put it back into his bag. Dramatic acts of symbolism weren't his style anyways. 

The next day he saw the ship dock, unassuming to most people. It was comforting to him, though, the familiar shape of its several masts and fantail stern. Privyet and the rest of his crew welcomed him when he stepped on the ship, but he wasn't paying attention. All he could think of was the next few weeks ahead of him. He changed into his teal frock and went back out onto the deck, just in time for the squallers to send the boat out into the water. When the Volkvolny was far enough away from the coast, he felt it jerk upward into the clouds, hovering over the waves. Nikolai looked out onto the True Sea with nothing but the sea spray on his face and the wind in his hair.

Chapter Text

Zoya sat at the dining table, trying not to look dejected. Herring, again. She picked at it with her fork before tentatively taking a bite. Zoya had grown accustomed to the fish during her time at the Little Palace, but she had hoped to escape it once she was queen. But alas, the kitchen was running low on produce and only had barrels of herring lying around. Just her luck.

Genya slid into the seat next to her with her plate full of pastries. Zoya gawked at her, and Genya just laughed in return.

"Where did you get those?" Zoya asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You know that cooks' daughter with terrible acne? I convinced her dad to use the last of the flour to make these for me if I tailored her to look more like Alina." Genya replied, her face restraining laughter.

"That's ridiculous," Zoya said with a snort

"Apparently they're both super religious or something. They thought it would be an honor to have the sun summoners' best friend make her look like Alina Starkov."

Zoya couldn't contain herself and burst into laughter.

Genya rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. "Laugh all you want, but you're the one forced to eat that vile fish."

In a flash, Zoya swiped 3 pastries off her dish and devoured them.

"What more did I expect?" Genya muttered, trying to suppress a laugh.

"I'm the queen, it is your duty to give me pastries," Zoya said with a flip of her hair. She took another bite of herring before dropping her fork and pushing away her plate.

"I can't eat this," She said, standing up and walking away.

"Wait!" Genya called out, trying to scarf down as much food as possible before chasing after her.

She finally caught up to Zoya, looking displeased.

"You could have waited for me," She said, taking shallow breaths "You know I hate running."

Zoya smirked at her and kept walking.

They eventually made it to Zoyas' chambers, and Genya fell onto the bed with a dramatic flop.

"Get up, you need to help me pick an outfit," Zoya said, flinging her closet doors open.

"Why?" Genya grumbled in return.

"Because Hiram Schenck is coming back for another meeting later and I want to guarantee a good outcome."

"And what does that entail?"

"I think you know."

Genya propped herself up on her elbows. "You want me to help you seduce Schenck?"

"Not seduce, just influence."

"Call it whatever you want, I have been waiting for this day since you became queen," Genya said with a mischievous smile. 

Zoya rolled her eyes, but Genya was already digging through the closet. It was a sight to behold, triple the size of her bedroom, filled to the brim with almost every article of clothing one could imagine. Shelves built high filled with hats, gloves, purses, and corsets. Rows and rows of ball gowns, evening dresses, nightgowns, coats, keftas, pants, boots, heels, and just about everything else a queen could possibly need. Zoya had had it expanded after she moved it. Even though she could easily ask any of the palace seamstresses to make her a dress whenever she liked, Zoya preferred to be prepared for any situation, so while it was being built she asked them to make her every item she could think of. Genya always loved combing through it and trying everything on, and today was no different.

After just a few minutes Genya had already chosen some outfits, and was ready to force Zoya to try them on. 

"I am not wearing this!" Zoya grumbled, the dress on her was practically scandalous.

It was silver with spaghetti straps and had an almost see through mesh bodice that clung to her tightly. It ended around her upper thigh and the neckline was lower than her spirits. It wasn't a dress she would normally wear, but she had to admit it looked good on her. With diamond jewelry on her neck and wrists, her black hair falling around her shoulders, and her lashes dark as ebony, Zoya wondered why Nikolai hadn't fallen for her sooner.

"You asked me to help you seduce him, did you not?" Genya said, wiggling her eyebrows.

"This is a little much."

"It's effective."

"I'll just pick out a dress."

"We'll pick out a dress."

After much back and forth, they both settled on a blue dress with silver embroidery like her kefta. The dress was fairly modest, covering her arms and ending around mid calf, but it stuck to her form and had a slit at one leg. She paired it with minimalistic silver jewelry, a pair of diamond earrings, black kitten heels, and her crown. As soon as she finished putting it on, Genya pulled her aside to the vanity and spent an hour meticulously tailoring her face and applying her makeup. When she was finished, she dragged Zoya over to the mirror so she could see their work in all its glory.

A smile grew on Zoyas' face as she began to realize this could be a very effective tactic.

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Nikolai looked out onto the sky, unsure of what to do. He thought he would be able to make himself useful once he was Sturmhond, but that had yet to be the truth. They were on course to take down a slaver vessel headed to Kerch, and it would be at least a day until they would catch up to it. With Tolya and Tamar off visiting Ehri in Shu Han, Privyet was the only crewmate who would talk to him. The rest of the crew still respected Nikolai and would follow his orders, but outside the welcome they had given him and the occasional passing hello, most of them had kept their distance and stuck to their duties. Fair enough, considering he was a monster.

He felt more alone and purposeless than he did at the Little Palace. Did Zoya miss him? Did she regret sending him away? Did she think of him every night before she slept the way he hadn't been able to stop doing? A million questions ran through his mind as he wondered if Zoya even cared that he was gone. He considered writing to her several times, and even turning around the boat, but he wasn't sure she even wanted him back. A stupid thing to say, Zoya loved him and he loved her, but she had seemed cold and distant the day she told him to leave. Nikolai pushed back tears as he looked at the clouds. Sturmhond flirted and charmed, not cried. Zoya, no matter how perfect in his eyes, had made her choice that day, and he wasn't about to throw himself into the sea in misery over it.

Later that day, he was informed that the boat they had been chasing was slowing down and they had managed to catch up. He gripped the railing as the Volkvolny descended from the clouds, landing swiftly on the ocean and gliding through the waves. Nikolai saw the crew of the slaver vessel running around in a frenzy, realizing that Sturmhond had just entered the scene. His squallers pushed the boat forward until it was mere yards away from the other ship. Gripping his revolvers, he was prepared for a fight, until Nikolai heard a loud rolling noise and a thunk. His stomach dropped as he realized they were rolling cannons onto their railings. Before he could react, a loud boom cracked through the air and a cannonball headed straight for them.

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Zoya sat across the table from Hiram Schecnk. She had purposefully chosen one that was particularly short, allowing her to be much closer to him than she would with a war table. They were discussing matters of the state, but he was being quite stubborn. Luckily, Zoya could change that

"Eight Durasts is too much," She reasoned.

"Despite what you think, this is not a negotiation."

"The Second Army can't afford to lose more grisha"

"You can't afford anything right now, seeing as you are knee deep in debts."

"We already gave you the plans to the ismars'ya, we're not sending you Durasts too."

"They were designed to be made in your fabrikator labs, we make them too slowly with regular manpower."

"Four."

"Eight."

Zoya sat there, contemplating her next move. Clearly, arguing wasn't going to get her anywhere, so she leaned in and laid her hand on his arm.

"Please, I'm trying to keep the Second army from falling apart. I'll gladly give you the grisha, but I can't do eight." She said, trying to look as meek as possible. Based on their previous encounters, she didn't think he'd buy it, but he was nodding and agreeing. Zoya tried to look him in the eye, but his gaze was directed far from her face. Realizing the opportunity, she leaned in a little closer and began running her hand up his arm.

"I'm just a queen trying to save her country. I can't do it alone. You could help me though." She cocked her head to the side, and felt a warm hand slide up her thigh.

Every part of Zoya revolted and it took everything in her not to pull away. She felt a little shame, knowing Nikolai wouldn't be able to stand the idea of this, but it was for Ravka, for everything they had been fighting for. Besides, the public didn't know about her and Nikolai, and the chance of her hand in marriage tended to be a very convincing factor in negotiations. When she looked at his expression though, she saw no romance, no love. Just lust.

"Yes, I'm sure we could work something out." Schenck said, his hand moving higher and higher, getting dangerously close.

Zoya grabbed his hand and placed it on the table.

"We can work something out now. Trust me, Ravka will be very grateful." She said, her demeanor changing from docile to coy.

 Thanks to Genya and a tight dress, Zoya had Kerch under her thumb.

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Nikolai hit the deck as a cannonball tore right through the sails. He was on his feet in a flash, and looked up, realizing his squallers were redirecting them. Pure instinct took over, and his hands reached to his pistols and started firing, taking down person after person, their deck littered with corpses. It wasn't a pleasant sight, but being Sturmhond required you to have blood on your hands, it was unavoidable. Another boom, and all of a sudden one of their masts was demolished. Nikolai barely had time to get out of its way. 

It went back and forth, bullets to cannons, and he could see his squallers growing tired, it seemed like they had a never ending supply, whereas his crew would soon run out of ammo. He was beginning to lose hope, and was about to signal to his squallers to retreat, when another resounding thunderclap roared through the air, and his squallers faltered. He watched as the bow of his ship was blown to bits. The ship couldn't handle it and began to tip over, and Nikolai started yelling orders, trying to see if they could get back in the air. He watched helplessly as the Volkvolny began to sink, and all his hope with it.

This wasn't like him, he usually had a way to outwit or outrun the enemy. Those traits belonged to the old Nikolai though, and he left that version of himself back in Os Alta without realizing. He was about to give up when a boat started approaching from the distance, speeding towards the battle. It was small yet quick, and before he knew it, it was behind the attacking ship. A flash of metal flew across his vision and burrowed itself in the chest of a crew member. Nikolai looked a little closer, and began to smile as he realized that it was a familiar bone handled knife.

The crew of the small ship all began releasing their fury, throwing knives, bullets, even a few spears. Each member with a different style, some untrained, some professionals, but they each attacked with the same passion. They overran the slaver vessel, claiming the ship as their own and trying up the survivors. The captain of the ship was gagged and unceremoniously thrown overboard. Nikolai drew in a breath, unable to process what just happened, before a woman started yelling orders to her crew. When he looked up, he saw a familiar face looking back at him. Up on the prow of a ship, he saw Inej Ghafa looking upon him, her silky braid whipping back and forth in the wind.