Summary: As Portia mourns the death of her beloved father, she finds that there is a grotesque creature that wants to devour her. This creature was created her by own dark desires and the only way to defeat it is to sacrifice someone dear to her.
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For @spookywafflesandkruge softober20: laugh and angstober20: lost
Nikolai stood at the precipice—fearing the dark abyss that he was moments away from falling into—restraining the demon that was slowly taking over his mind. (Prompt 2: Afraid/Falling) 🌚
Nikolai: “Tell me this isn’t a mistake” Zoya: “Just shut up and kiss me” 👁👄👁 I made it angsty and soft for the first prompt: Mistake/Kiss by @wafflesandkruge (I’m a day late but it was worth it)
If You Ever Come Back - Softober/Angstober (12/31)
A/N: SORRY FOR THE BOMBARDMENT OF ZOYALAI BUT HAVE MORE ROLE SWAP AU NO ONE ASKED FOR LAJSDFLJAS
Based on the prompt ‘Hate’ and ‘Warm’ from the Angstober/Softober list.
Word count: 2914
AO3
The first time Zoya had held a sword was when she was ten.
It was a bit late, if she were to be asked. She had wanted to learn sword-fighting ever since she was six and had taken a liking to sneaking off her lessons and watching the royal guards and soldiers spar with each other in the training arena instead.
Queen Liliyana had never reprimanded her about it, but Zoya was told that she was still too little to wield weapons almost as big as her, and so she patiently waited for that time to come. Liliyana had given Zoya a handmade wooden sword on her eighth birthday, as a makeshift weapon for a while before she was allowed to hold a real one.
And when she finally did, nothing could explain the delight she felt that day.
But she never thought that along with it would come along an infuriating young boy that seemed to just know everything.
It had been early in the morning, and Zoya was already in the arena, buzzing with excitement and energy as she tried to weigh the personalized sword given to her by the Queen, made by one of the best blacksmiths in the kingdom. The weapon felt light and heavy at the same time, and it was definitely much different than the wooden one she had grown accustomed to.
She eyed the crafted metal in awe, the Z on the pommel glinting bright gold as she held it up to the light. It was truly one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
“Let’s see how sharp you are,” she said, walking over to one of the training dummies on the platform. She rolled her wrists to hold it tightly in both her hands, and then she raised the sword to strike—
The sound of the wooden doors slamming open and shut startled Zoya that the sword almost slipped from her hands.
She whirled around, teeth gritted and ready to go on with a verbal battle to the person who dared to come barging in the arena, but stopped when she noticed a figure crouched down behind the doors. By their stance, it looked like they were trying to hide from something or someone, their ear pressed against the wooden surface.
Who dared to disturb her here?
Voices and footsteps echoed outside of the arena, and for one fleeting moment, Zoya saw whoever it was on the door go completely still. She raised an eyebrow. Who in the saints' name was this person?
She waited until the noise from outside faded in the distance, and let another moment pass just to make sure that whoever this person was hiding from was gone.
Then with a sharp tone, Zoya called out, "Excuse me."
The figure jolted. There was a loud thud and an "ow", and the person fell back on the ground, rubbing at their forehead.
Not a person, she considered with an eye-roll. But an idiot.
By this time, Zoya was getting impatient and annoyed. Her morning was supposed to be spent in peace while trying to train by herself. But now it was ruined.
The idiot stood, hand still on their forehead, and faced her. That was the only time she noticed that it was a young boy.
A young idiotic boy.
"Excuse me," Zoya repeated, but with much sharper this time. Show manners, but make sure they hear your tone. She put a hand on her hip. "But who are you and why are you here?"
The boy still had a wince on his face as he continued to rub his forehead. She eyed him closely. He wasn't from the palace, Zoya was sure, as she was familiar to all the people residing there. Unless he was with the visitors from one of the neighboring kingdoms that arrived here a few days ago.
But considering how he looked, the boy wasn't dressed like a royal she had expected him to be. His undershirt was a rumpled mess and there were a lot of dark stains at the front, and his breeches had been untucked from his boots.
If he were an intruder—
Zoya gripped at her sword tightly. She had a weapon with her, he wouldn't dare to do anything.
The boy walked towards her, coming into the light, and Zoya pointed her sword down at him. Thankfully, this had him stop in his place just below the dais. His blond hair almost looked white out in the open.
"Should I repeat my question, or you just lost your ability to speak?" She glared at him, the kind that could make other people cower, but the boy seemed to be immune to it. Definitely not a person. "Don't make me use this to you."
The boy huffed a nervous laugh, raising both hands in surrender. "I'm, uh—" He frowned, his eyes on her hand gripping the sword.
Zoya's jaw twitched in irritation. "Hey."
"Ah, right. Yes, I'm Nicky. That's my name. I'm with one of the visitors from Fjerda," he blabbered, the words coming out in a tangled mess. Then he pointed a finger to her sword. "And that's not how you hold a sword properly. Is that your dominant hand?"
Her anger flared up, and Zoya scoffed. The audacity of this boy to come barge in the arena without permission, and now he was going to lecture her on how to hold a weapon?
One thing became clear in her mind: she hated this Nicky already.
"I could punch you with my dominant hand," she said, "and in that case you'd know."
"Left hand, then." Nicky tried to walk up the dais, but Zoya held the sword steady to his chest. "Easy, princess, I wouldn't want to die just yet without seeing the annoyed face of my big brother when he realizes that his carriage is missing a wheel."
Another thought cleared: he talked too much.
"How did you know who I am?"
"Not really hard to know." Nicky gestured above his head with a twirl of a finger. He gave her a grin. "You still have your crown on."
Her free hand shot up to her head, and, true enough to what the boy said, she had her small crown on.
Zoya sighed exasperatedly over her foolishness. It had been an instinct to put on her crown every time she woke up in the morning. Perhaps she should only wear it when needed.
She took off the crown and settled it over the dummy's head. When she turned, Nicky was already on the dais, posture at ease as if she hadn't threatened him with her sword just now.
"Did your parents even tell you about personal space?" Zoya demanded, tone almost a snarl.
There was a flash of hurt in his hazel eyes for a moment, but it was gone as soon as she could blink. He recovered with another grin that made her want to punch him in the face. "They did, but I think that would be at least a foot away from you, Princess, and I am currently very far from your arm's reach."
Zoya found the punching thought very convenient now. "Alright, Mister Know-It-All, do you mind? I need to train."
"By yourself?"
"Do you have any problem with that?"
Nicky shook his head quickly. "No, not really," he replied. He raised a closed hand, tapping at his wrist. "I just noticed your grip, it's a bit stiff and shaky. You wouldn't want that." He shrugged when he noticed her flat stare at him. "I am quite fond of sword fighting too, Princess."
Zoya deadpanned. "Oh, I thought talking too much is your expertise."
"That too, I might add. My instructors hate it." He winked, and then he gestured to her sword. "May I?" When she glared at him, Nicky immediately added, "You can trust me."
"How about no?"
To Zoya’s surprise, he laughed loudly like she hadn't just rejected his request. He seemed to consider everything funny to him. "Okay, fair," he said. "But just for a moment? I'll show you then I'll leave you to train in peace, I promise."
She considered it for a moment, realizing that whether she agreed or not, Nicky wasn't going to leave anytime soon and she'd have to endure his presence for a bit longer. Or she could just kick him out. She was the Princess, anyway.
The latter actually sounded good to her, but still she found herself handing her sword to the infuriating boy with an exasperated breath. She'd humor him for a bit and hope that he stick to his word and leave her alone after.
"Take it before I change my mind in about a split second."
Nicky's eyes lit up, and he grinned as he took the weapon. "Don't worry, you won't regret it."
It was quite true, much to Zoya's disappointment. Even though he could have explained some techniques in several words, she found his random blabbers funny and entertaining, and she could notice that he really indeed was fond of swords in the way he spoke.
There were still times that she wanted to kick him out of the arena when his jokes became too exhausting and she'd threaten to make him leave, but Nicky would just laugh it off and go back to explaining.
A few hours passed, or probably longer than that, but they didn't notice that much until the doors to the arena barged open again.
Zoya let out a frustrated breath, turning to the door with a glare. "What?" She recovered quickly when she saw that it was one of the guards in the Palace. Her frown disappeared. "What is it?"
"Your Highness," the guard said, dropping to a bow. Then he turned to Nicky with a grim expression. "My lord, the prince is looking for you. He is quite…furious."
Nicky was silent, and then he laughed lightly. "I was wondering how long it'd take before he sends someone to come find me. He's a bit slower than I expected him to be." He turned to Zoya. He tossed the sword to his other hand and, with ease, flipped it around so that the tip was pointing downwards, before he handed the pommel to her.
She took it with a huff. "Still a show-off, I see," she said, shaking her head. She considered his demeanor for a moment, seeing amusement in his eyes but the warmth in them wasn't as vibrant as before. He looked disappointed, at least. "You should go."
"I guess I really should." He stepped back and went down the dais. "Perhaps I'll see you here again tomorrow?"
"You're still here tomorrow?" Zoya hadn't meant to sound enthusiastic as it might add to his ego again, but she still did, anyway. She blinked, covering up her eagerness with a frown. “I mean, if you’re still here, I wouldn’t plan to come here again.”
Nicky smiled. “We’re probably here until the end of the week. Unless my brother throws a fit and is overcome with a dark mood,” he said. “No need to get too excited, Princess.”
“No, I’m not. Who says I am?”
“Whatever you say.” He grinned at her, and then bowed deeply. “It’s been an honor, Princess.”
With a final wink, Nicky turned and walked towards the door.
Zoya watched him as he disappeared behind the doors along with the guard, and the arena was quiet once again. She didn’t want to think of it, but she kind of liked the constant jokes Nicky told her during the past few hours. Maybe he wasn’t that annoying after all.
She looked forward to tomorrow.
---
When Nicky didn’t come the next morning, she tried to hide her disappointment all throughout the day. She asked the Queen later that night about the Fjerdan visitors they had and she learned that they had to leave the night prior because of an emergency.
Zoya only nodded in understanding. They would most likely visit again sometime soon, and maybe she’d get better with handling her sword by that time and Nicky wouldn’t be much of a smug person that he was.
She used it as her drive to learn faster and better. His next visit would definitely be a fun one.
---
But he never came back again.
*****
Their swords clashed with a loud clang, but neither refused to back down. Zoya could feel her strength dwindling from exhaustion since earlier, but she refused to give him the win.
She pushed back against his sword. “Tired, Captain?” she goaded, and sweeped her foot in an arc to the ground.
Nikolai reacted at the last second and stepped back, using her momentum to hit the sword in her hand. It was knocked a few feet away and Zoya rolled over to get it.
“Barely,” he said, but he was already panting as well. He lunged for her just as she landed on a crouch, and she raised her weapon in time to parry his strike. He backed away, giving her the chance to stand up and recover. There was a smug grin on his face, and she fought the urge to punch it off. “How about you, Princess? Getting sloppier?”
This ticked off something in her, but Zoya covered with a dark laugh. She rolled her wrist that was already beginning to feel numb. She had been in the arena for a few hours now, and Nikolai had the audacity to challenge her to a duel. “You seem to be forgetting that I beat you in that royal tournament, Captain,” she said as they circled around each other, never breaking eye contact. “That was only a year ago. Do I need to remind you?”
He chuckled, and then lunged at her in a flash. Zoya sidestepped and whirled. Nikolai barreled past her, and she used the split second to kick him in the back of his knees that sent him toppling over. She bit back a laugh as she raised a brow to his slumped figure on the ground.
“Getting sloppier?”
Nikolai stood back up, twirling the sword around his hand. Still a show-off. He ran a hand through his hair to brush off the fallen strands from his eyes. “Only for you, Princess.” He strode forward to attack, and Zoya raised her sword to ready her defense.
But he feigned right, and in an instant, he tossed his sword to his other hand and flipped it that the pommel was facing upwards.
Zoya blinked, the grip on her own sword loosening for a bit.
She had seen that before.
He bent down and stabbed the ground near her feet, causing her to snap out from her daze and step back. But it was already too late. She only had a second to see the triumphant smile on Nikolai’s face as he struck up and hit her hand with the pommel, effectively throwing off her sword again.
Nikolai was panting as he pointed his sword at her, using its tip to tilt her chin up. He smirked. “You were saying?”
Zoya was still staring at him, trying to remember that one day from the arena almost a decade ago. A memory of an infuriating boy and his loquacious nature resurfaced.
Nicky.
Was it him?
Nikolai must have noticed her bewildered look, because a confused expression bloomed on his face and he stepped back, lowering his sword. “For someone who always won, I understand that you’d look shocked when you lost but. . . are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I might as well have. Zoya recovered and averted her eyes, suddenly finding her weapon on the ground interesting. She walked over to pick it up. “Yes, I am. Sloppy loss for me, I will admit. I got distracted for a bit.” She paused. “Good fight.”
“Then you finally admit I’m that distracting enough?”
She rolled her eyes and turned to Nikolai, who was already putting back the sword in the weapon rack by the wall. “Who says so?”
“I don’t know, maybe you?” He chuckled as he walked back to the dais to retrieve his coat from the edge. “But now I know it still works, eh?”
Zoya raised an eyebrow. “What was that supposed to mean?” she demanded, eyeing his retreating form walk towards the doors.
Then a thought struck her. Did he do that on purpose? Did he know?
Was it him?
Nikolai reached the doors, but before he could leave completely, he turned to look at her. There was a soft smile on his lips that made him look less than a Captain and more of an old friend. He gestured to his head. “At least you’re holding your sword properly this time,” he said, and her eyes widened. Everything clicked into place. What in the world— He laughed loudly and opened the doors. “Wear your crown again next time!” Then he was gone.
Zoya was left gaping at the spot where he had just been. It took another long moment for her to process everything, but in the end, she let out a loud laugh that she didn’t know she was capable of doing. She shook her head in disbelief, turning back to the dais and remembering that day from a long time ago. A real smile found its way to her lips after a while, and a warm feeling bloomed in her chest.
