And Here I Thought You Couldn't Get Any More Ridiculous
Summary: A Zoyalai fic based on the prompt from an anon: ‘And here I thought you couldn't get any more ridiculous’
send me a prompt/sentence and i’ll write you a little blurb
“What if you married me?”
“And here I thought you couldn’t get any more ridiculous,” Zoya huffed, taking another sip from her wine glass.
“What’s so ridiculous about marrying me?”
“Well, let’s see,” she mocked, punctuating each point by ticking it off on a finger, “you’ll get no money for Ravka from that. You will gain no new political allies. Your people will never accept a Grisha queen. You want to marry for love. And all that aside, you are assuming that I would ever want to marry you, your highness.”
“All of those matters can be resolved,” Nikolai insisted, plucking the glass from her hands and taking a swig as he threw himself down next to her.
“How, Nikolai? It’s not possible to fix everything using your fast talk and charm.”
“Improbable, not impossible, Zoya dear.”
“Insufferable and ridiculous, maybe you really can be everything at once.”
“I never said I couldn’t. If anything you are the contrarian in this relationship, Nazyalensky.”
“What relationship?” she scoffed, snatching her wine glass back. Even now, the king took too many liberties. She could not care less about the rumors that she was his mistress but Zoya knew that if Nikolai were to ever find a wife, those types of rumors couldn’t be floating around. She was taking too much of a liberty herself tonight, it was late and she was sharing a nightcap alone with the king in his chambers. No potential bride would want to pursue a husband who spent so much of his personal time with his general. Although, she was sure that he would be too busy spending this time they shared with his wife, enough so that he would finally let her retire to her own chambers at a decent time instead of sitting in front of the fire with him.
She did feel a prickle of something in her heart though, when she thought of the idea of not having this routine anymore. Zoya couldn’t quite figure out why this was, though she supposed it was likely due to the prospect of having to construct a new routine rather than fall back into what she knew. Nikolai would have his wife to spend his evenings with, and Zoya would have time to herself to do what, exactly? Tag along with Genya and David or Tamar and Nadia while the couples mooned over each other? Disgusting. Attend poetry evenings with Tolya? No thanks. Go to Count Kirigin’s revels? She’d rather spend the night hunting down Nikolai’s monster friend or worse, teaching herself how to knit. She shuddered at the thought, the cherry red wine sweet on her lips but a bitter taste remained in her mouth.
“What if I gave you a ring?” Nikolai continued, ignoring her words, “you do like jewels.”
“Didn’t you waste the Lantsov emerald on the Sun Summoner? I doubt you have enough funds to buy a gem a fraction of its size.”
“Really?” Nikolai laughed, “you have that little faith in me?”
“It’s not faith Nikolai, it’s basic mathematics. If you’re unable to pay off your loans, you’re unable to buy the type of jewelry that’s worth marrying a man over.”
“So I suppose I shouldn’t be in possession of this?” Nikolai waved a small black box under her nose, eyes sparkling with delight when her eyes widened slightly at the sight of it.
“Nikolai--” her hand shot out to cover his firmly, making sure he couldn’t open the box. “I need to go,” a terrible excuse, but it was all she could think to say. This had gone from playful banter to crossing the line into being dangerous. They could not afford this, no matter how much she wanted to know what was in the box.
“No, you don’t. Not until you see this at least.”
Before she could shoot to her feet however, Nikolai’s hand escaped her grasp slipping craftily over her own so now she was the one who couldn’t pry her fingers free. Nikolai gave her an expecting look, and when she didn’t move, he sighed dramatically, flipping the lid open.
She couldn’t stop the shock from flickering onto her face. There, at the center of the black box, resting on the cushion was a… folded piece of parchment? Her eyes flicked to his and he simply nodded at it, indicating that she should take it. Tentatively she unfolded it single handedly, her other hand still enclosed in his.
“Are you serious?”
“Aren’t I always?”
She slapped his shoulder as a grin bloomed over his features. “I owe you one ring? You’re ridiculous.”
He shrugged, “you know our finances as well as I do, we can’t afford that.”
“Exactly why you need a bride who has an excess of gold.”
“I don’t particularly care for gold.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re the head of a bankrupt country.”
He considered that for a second, “no, I think it was because of my charm.”
“Interesting word for circumstance.”
“Circumstance, or twenty one years of training myself to be king in the making?”
She rolled her eyes, pulling her hand from his around the box as an exhale expelled the tension that had been coiled in her. Zoya had been right, he wasn’t serious about this. It was simply Nikolai being silly with a little too much alcohol in his system. “Goodnight, King Wretch.”
“Goodnight, commander. Don’t think I won’t be asking again when I have a ring.”
“Once you have money, you mean?”
“Yes,” Nikolai laughed.
“So in two hundred some years?”
He winked, at her as she slipped out the door, “it may be sooner than you think.”
“Like I said before, I thought you couldn't get any more ridiculous, but you manage to outdo yourself every time.”
“I am nothing if not extraordinary.” Nikolai said, shutting the door behind her, and Zoya didn’t miss the sound of his gleeful laugh as she made her way back to her own chambers.
Summary: Part 2 of a Zoyalai AU based on ‘How You Get the Girl.’ | Nikolai tries to win Zoya back, but she’s not going to forgive him so easily.
A/N: Zoya's reminded of all the good times she had with Nikolai, but is it enough? Thanks for reading, feedback is always really appreciated.
How You Get The Girl (Part 1)
“Zoya, there’s someone here for you.”
“I’m busy,” Zoya replied distractedly, her eyes fixed on the monitor before her, “tell them I’m not here.”
“Zoya,” her new receptionist hesitated, “I tried, but he said, ‘tell Nazyalensky I know she can spare five minutes out of her busy schedule to meet with the CEO of Ravkan Industries,’ is he delusional, should I call security?” Zoya paused. Sending security to haul Nikolai out of the firm would be funny, but it would never happen. Unfortunately he probably knew the names of all of the security guards in her high rise office and sent them Christmas cards every year. Her fingers twitched around the pen she gripped in her hand, she only had another hour before she went home, and she’d taken the day off tomorrow so that she could spend it with Genya. Undoubtedly, Nikolai was here to try to weasel his way into her evening plans.
Well, Zoya mused, if I accept whatever outrageous proposal he has for tonight, at least I won’t have to pay for it. And, if Nikolai was serious about wanting to win her back he would try as hard as he could to do so (like he did with everything), so it would be safe to assume he would splurge on her. You don’t have to take him back, you can just make fun of him the whole night and get a free dinner out of it too. She sighed, knowing this night was already doomed to be a disaster. Whatever, disasters were always more fun to deal with when Nikolai was involved. She pressed the comms button on her desk, “send him in. Tell him he has five minutes before I call security on him. But first, put him on the DNA list.”
***
Nikolai grinned at Zoya’s new assistant who was clearly flustered by the situation, though she did an excellent job in appearing unphased. Zoya’s old assistant must have left while they were still in the ‘try-to-contact-me-and-I’ll-run-you-over' stage of the last few months, seeing how her new assistant, Leoni, didn't know who he was. “What’s the DNA list?” he asked, blinking confusedly when she whipped out her phone, clearly snapping a picture of him. “Are you going to pull out a few of my hairs? What would Nazyalensky even want them for?”
Leoni looked up, “ Miss Nazyalensky said that it’s classified information, sorry.”
Nikolai peered at her screen, she was making a poster with the image she’d just taken of him, captioned with, ‘CEO of Ravkan Industries.’ “My name is Nikolai, if that helps. Nikolai Lantsov.”
She waved him away, “you’re free to go in now. Have a nice day. Also, watch out, she’s very good at tearing men to shreds.”
Nikolai let out a laugh, “thank you, Miss Hilli, I’ll keep that in mind. I also happen to have it on good authority that she won’t tear me to shreds tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I think she’s been expecting me for a while.”
“You’ll need a better line than that to win her over.”
Nikolai pressed his knuckles to the door, “it’s me.” He heard faint grumbling he assumed was Zoya cursing him out before the door opened automatically and he sauntered into the room. “I can’t believe you forgot to tell Leoni who I was, Nazyalensky. Can you imagine the blow to my ego when she didn’t recognize me?” He slipped into the chair across from her, attempting to snatch a piece of candy from the golden bowl on her desk.
“Hey!” she snapped, swatting his hand away without even looking up at him, “I’m sure your gigantic ego can handle it.” she continued flipping through the papers on her desk, highlighting things before turning back to her computer, never once looking at him. After 10 minutes, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?”
“You know that I know why you’re here. You just want a chance to say it out loud.”
“Right you are, Zoya dear! Tonight, you and I are spending the night out on the town.”
She looked at him pointedly, “and why would I agree to that?”
“Because we’re taking my car, and I’m paying for dinner.”
She arched a brow, “you’re driving? What, no chauffeur today?”
Grinning, Nikolai leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’m certainly not getting into a car with you behind the wheel.”
“I’m a good driver!” she hissed, jabbing her pen in his direction.
“Mailboxes and terrified pedestrians beg to differ, dear.”
“Whatever,” she huffed, “you’re not much better.”
“You’re right about that, I’m infinitely better.”
“Aren’t you trying to get me to agree to go out with you? Insulting me isn’t the way to do it.”
“Come on Nazyalensky,” he smiled, “it can’t be more insufferable than going out with -- what’s his name, the guy who works across the hall -- the one I saw trying to get himself together enough to ask you out tonight? Mel? Mervin? Martin? Marcus?”
She made a face, “I think it’s Merle?”
“Exactly my point.”
Zoya twisted a tendril of hair around her finger, which she usually did when thinking. “Don’t mistake my amusement for something else. I haven’t forgiven you.”
“I didn't ask you to,” Nikolai replied softly, “I just asked for a chance. Please just let me take you out tonight Zoya. Please.” He never begged, it wasn’t in his nature, but he was willing to do whatever it took to make her look at him like she did before, like he hadn’t hurt her.
She exhaled, “fine, but this doesn’t mean I forgive you.”
“I know.”
“You’ll have to wait a while, I can’t leave until I finish going through this case, it’ll take me at least another hour, maybe two.”
“Take your time,” Nikolai said, taking out his laptop from his bag, pulling up his own work, “I can wait.”
***
Three hours later, it was 7 PM and Zoya had collapsed on the ground, now staring up at the ceiling from her plush rug, her case files a mess around her. Nikolai sat by the window, the light of the setting sun illuminating his features. He looks like a prince in an oil painting, she thought, and then figured that her lack of sleep plus her hunger must be making her delirious.
“Let’s get some dinner,” Nikolai announced, suddenly standing up.
“Lantsov, I’m too tired to go out.”
“Fantastic, we’ll order in then.”
“Fine, but only because I’m too tired to storm out of here and go home right now,” she grumbled, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes.
He let out a chuckle, picking up his phone, stopping in his tracks when Zoya’s fingers shot out, wrapping around his wrist. “Wait, where are you ordering from?”
“Tolya’s, of course,” Nikolai replied, his eyes trained on Zoya’s fingers still clutched at his wrist. She moved to pull her hand back, but he was quicker, resting his on top of hers for an extended moment, his eyes lingering on her face. She fought to keep any hint of feeling out of her features, but she knew the tops of her cheeks were pinking. How dare he affect her this way. It was the first time they’d touched this way in months and Zoya hated how her chest constricted the longer he looked at her, the longer that his fingers brought warmth to her. She pulled out of his grasp, trying to clear her mind, deciding to settle on scooping up case files from the ground so that she could free herself from his piercing gaze. Nikolai turned towards the window, the city lights masking his face from her as he ordered from their friend’s restaurant.
She had missed this, just a bit, she could admit that much to herself. She had missed Nikolai’s ability to make others feel at ease, to make them laugh, and trust him. To want to lay their faith in them. She had missed the press of his fingers and those intelligent hazel eyes that never missed a thing, that could read her like an open book. Those eyes that were now back on her, Nikolai’s hand warm in hers as she took his offering hand to pull her up.
“Tolya said he’d personally deliver the order to the lobby, is that okay?” She nodded dazedly in response, picking up her bag and heading following him out the door, halting by her receptionist’s desk.
“Leoni,” Zoya said, feeling breathless as she ran a hand through her hair, “why are you still here? You know you don’t have to stay a minute past 6.”
“Oh,” Leoni said carefully, “I know, I was busy and forgot the time.”
Zoya frowned, moving around to Leoni’s side of the desk, “what were you working on? Everything but the Brekker case is closed and I just started it.”
“These biscuits are so tasty, Leoni. Are you sure it’s okay if I take the whole box?” the man who was mumbling through a cookie halted in his tracks as Zoya whirled on him incredulously.
“Adrik Zhabin, what the hell are you doing here?”
“I--”
“You know Zoya?” Leoni interjected.
“Well, funny story--”
“Does he know me? He’s my friend’s little brother! Are you,” she jabbed an accusatory finger at Adrik, “flirting with my receptionist?”
Adrik flushed as Leoni smiled at him affectionately, “no, I’m just driving her home.”
Zoya raised an eyebrow, “I have my eye on you Zhabin. You better just be ‘driving her home.’ Does your sister know about this?” She yanked her cellphone out of her purse, nearly dropping it when Nikolai placed his hand on top of hers.
“Nazyalensky, leave him alone.”
“But--”
“Zoya”
“Fine,” she huffed, putting her phone away, “Adrik, I’ve already lost one receptionist thanks to Mal Oretsev, you better watch yourself.”
“Yes ma’am,” Adrik said grumpily, avoiding eye contact with Nikolai as Leoni led him out the door, his hand tight in hers.
Nikolai waited until they were out of sight before turning to Zoya, “Can I walk you home, Nazyalensky?”
He got an eye roll in return, “if you want to waste your night, go ahead, but I’m planning on taking my share of dinner and going back to my place.”
“Fantastic .”
“Fantastic,” she muttered.
***
“I forgot how short you are without heels,” Nikolai teased as Zoya collapsed next to him on the picnic blanket, her glare bleary but cutting all the same. The sun was slowly setting, and the riverside was quiet, the only noise being the occasional conversations from those on the pathways. Dinner had been fairly quiet, they were too hungry to talk and Tolya’s food was far too good to not eat it quickly. Or at least that’s what she assumed Nikolai’s logic was, she knew her own reasons for refraining from chatting away with Nikolai, as easy as she knew the old habit would be to fall into.
“I’m six inches shorter than you, Nikolai, you’re not as tall as you think you are.”
“Anything shorter than me is short.”
“Ugh, I don’t care. I’m too tired and stuffed to deal with you,” she pushed his cheek away with her hand, closing her eyes as he laid down next to her, their hands nearly touching but not quite.
There was a long silence and for a moment Zoya thought Nikolai had fallen asleep, but then he spoke up, “do you remember how we used to come down here on the weekends?”
Zoya pushed down the urge to look over at him, “yes.”
“When you used to sit up here with your giant textbooks and chunky glasses.”
“My glasses were sleek and fashionable.”
“You remember 6 A.M. on Saturday mornings very differently than I do.”
She jammed her elbow into his side, his wheezing laugh making her shake her head. “With your back to back rowing and sailing practice, I had a lot of time to study.”
“Yeah, but you always found the time to cheer me on. Every time I looked up, you would be waving back. In the team rooms on campus, half of my pictures on the wall were ones you took after practice.” The pictures in frames, she knew were all the ones he had said he loved, where her bright lipstick stained his cheeks. It had been so easy to forget her hurt this afternoon as they worked quietly, side by side, when they joked as if nothing had happened, but this reminiscing was too much, it brought back all the wrong memories.
“Young Zoya had a habit of getting herself caught up in things that wasted her time when she shouldn’t have.” The words were harsh, they left a bitter taste in her mouth but she couldn’t hold them in. How many nights had she spent, curled up in bed, simply wanting answers as to why Nikolai had walked out of her life with no explanation. She hated to admit that she had been searching for love her whole life, love from a mother and mentor who saw her as nothing more than a means to their own ends. Love from a father who was too afraid to stand up for himself, for her. She had found it once, and she thought that with Nikolai she had found it again. How wrong she was.
“I know you don’t believe me, Zoya, but I never meant to hurt you.”
“You don’t know what I believe,” she whispered, horrified at how her eyes burned. She shut them tighter still, “I know that you left because you were trying to protect me. Because you thought it was your fault and you wanted to fix things, because you always want to fix things.” Nikolai was quiet and so she continued, six months of pent up words tumbling out. “You made me feel safe, you made me believe that you wouldn’t leave. I let myself fall for your charms again and again, I won’t let myself be fooled so easily again.” She felt tears leak from the corners of her eyes, even in this moment where all she wanted to do was yell at him, she felt safe enough to tell him the truth of how she felt. Damn him.
“I wasn’t trying to trick you, not you, never you.” Nikolai’s voice was thick and she knew that if she looked over at him, she would see tears in his eyes too.
“I tried so hard to hate you. I really did. But then you called every day, you sent me those letters, all the flowers, why couldn’t you just tell me the truth from the start? You know I would’ve understood. I would’ve helped.”
“I’ve told you how bad my family is, but they’re truly horrible. I couldn’t think of a way to fix the situation without ruining your life, if they knew you existed, they would’ve made it hell. I should’ve told you before I did any of it, but I was a coward. It was easier to leave first and explain later. I didn’t want to watch your heart break,” his voice broke on the last word and Zoya pressed her palm to her mouth, trying to push back a sob.
Nikolai’s hand brushed against hers on the picnic blanket and she grasped it tightly, needing something to hold onto as silent sobs racked her body. He didn’t try to reach out or comfort her, he knew she didn’t want that, that she didn’t need it. Despite all that, she let herself break in that moment, surrendering to an all too familiar comfort, the press of his hand against hers. Zoya took one deep breath, then another, until she felt grounded, swiping at the tears that still lingered on her cheeks. She stood up abruptly, gathering her things as quickly as she could, without looking back at him. Zoya needed to get out of here, her head was still swimming with a thousand emotions she couldn’t try to detangle, and she refused to fall into Nikolai’s arms again because she let her emotions get the best of her. He didn’t try to stop her.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |
Summary: A Zoyalai modern AU with fake dating & mutual pining.
A/N: This story has 6 parts and is still updating! Last updated on August 3, 2021 More info + tags can be found on Ao3.
Ao3: Let’s Get Married
Exerpt:
He raised a brow, easing back in his chair, “can I help you?”
“What’s this?” Genya exclaimed without any preamble, grabbing a paper off the top of the stack in David’s hands and slapping it onto his desk.
“Paper, I assume, darling Genya.”
“I mean what’s on the paper,” she snapped, “it says you’re married.”
Summary: A Zoyalai One For My Enemy AU. Two heirs from enemy empires find themselves in the same room for the first time in years. Is their future elastic, letting them fall back into one another or has too much happened since then, causing them to break apart forever?
Ao3: This Love
A/N: While the first chapter of this fic is a scene from one of the early chapters of the book, One For My Enemy, the second chapter will contain major spoilers for the book so please beware if you plan on reading this!
cw: blood mentions (nothing more descriptive than the books though)
“Nikolai Lantsov,” her voice was still smooth, the lilt of his name off her lips used to send a shudder down his spine, maybe it still had that effect but nobody would know, not with the way he maintained his languid posture. He was born to be the second son but had quickly made it apparent to the family that he was nothing if not the one who would turn the heir apparent into the heir presumptive. Nikolai was not born to be a leader, though every moment of his life was spent proving otherwise. His curious mind wanted answers to everything, he spent hours deconstructing people’s movements to figure out how he could act to cause another to react in the way he wanted. As a consequence he learned how and when to react himself, a skill he had never been more grateful for than at this moment.
“You haven’t forgotten me, have you?” Zoya slowly slipped her coat off, taking note of how Nikolai’s gaze never wavered from her but his eyes betrayed nothing. He was every inch the stoic prince, every bit the cunning king. Vasily’s eyes slid over her in the way they always did, disdainfully, as if she was there to take what was his. He’d always been a little bit more observant than she’d ever given him credit for, but she supposed that even a broken clock was right twice a day.
“Of course I remember you, Nazyalensky. Do you still know me?”
“I thought I did.”
***
In the past ‘Lantsov’ had been for daily use; it was a name that belonged to most of the people he knew, but when she said it, it was only ever for him.
‘Nikolai’ was for when the world shrunk down to just them, the way her red lips pulled up when she whispered his name, her thumb brushing his cheek bone, a hushed reply to his calling of her name between reverent praises in the dark of the night.
‘Kolya’ was teasing, she knew he hated it so it was always uttered to seek out a reaction. “ Kolya, guess who asked for my hand in marriage? Kolya, Kirigin asked me to accompany him to the theatre again today. I think he likes me, or it seemed like it when he put his hands on my waist.” Kolya always led to consequences but it was like she always purred afterwards, ‘ you’re too predictable Lantsov.’ He knew he was, but that never stopped him, the taste of her was too sweet to turn away from.
In the past ‘ Nazyalensky’ had been for daily use; he'd called her that since they were children. One night, years later he would whisper into her hair that he had always liked the way it sounded, the gentle rise and fall of the syllables, how it demanded to be said slowly, demanded your time and respect for it could never be spoken with malice. She would smile, tracing the letters onto his chest, that’s exactly why she’d chosen it for herself.
'Zoya' was rare; she liked to think she could recount every time it had ever been uttered, though he had said it far too many times for that to be true. Her family called her Zoya, it was always said with unspoken love but she’d never know that someone could say it with the same connotations without being one of her people. In truth, Zoya was only rare when it came from his lips, he was the only one who said it like that. Zoya was used when he needed her, when he couldn’t do without her. Zoya was his, as much as Nikolai was hers… at least that’s how it’d been before.
***
In the after, Zoya lived forever in his mind, a searing image in the dawn light, the brush of icy wind against his face.
In the after, she forbade herself from thinking of Nikolai. She knew that what she’d given to him all those years ago would betray her if she did.
The after was where they existed now, a queen posed across from a king on a chessboard. She had any and every move at her disposal and all he could do was react with the smallest steps. The power was in her hands, though they were in his home, he’d never felt more like an exposed nerve before her than he did now. It didn’t help that she was wearing her signature armor tonight. After years without seeing her, the perfectly cut lines of her dress, the red curve of her lips that he knew she’d reapplied in the car, pressing them together three times to get them just right, the little details threatened to torch him, he was always too flammable when it came to her.
“Oh, Kolya ,” she sighed, crossing one leg over the other, her use of the diminutive threatened to undo him.
“Lantsov,” he corrected. “Why are you here, Nazyalensky?”
“Can’t I pop in for a visit?”
“Is it a friendly visit?” Even when they had been friends, nothing with her had ever been friendly.
“Now, that’s entirely up to you,” she cooed.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Nikolai mused, learning back in his seat. If she was going to toy with him, he may as well return the favour. She was quiet and so he continued, “how’s Kirigin?”
“Emil is as handsome, rich and satisfying as ever.” Her grin was sharp, he could almost see the challenge but he was not the boy she once knew, he would not rise to take the bait.
He pushed past the dig at him wrapped in a compliment to her husband. “Come now, Zoya. Your first visit after all these years can’t just be business related.”
She sighed, those damned red lips pulling into a slight pout. If the sound of her name coming from his mouth phased her, she would never let it show. “You’re right. Genya,” she summoned and her sister who had been standing quietly at her side handed her a small, perfectly wrapped package complete with a bow on top. Zoya’s fingers trailed the length of the package, as if she were weighing her options, deciding where the queen would land. After a brief second, she held it out to Nikolai, seemingly having made up her mind.
He heard Vasily start forward, but he held up his hand and his eyes fixed on her. Tonight was not the night to let his brother loose, everything regarding the Grisha, regarding Zoya required a knowledge of the past, which his brother did not have. Nikolai reached out, his fingers brushing over hers as he took the box from her. The Grisha were clever and Zoya had the lethal combination of being the most clever and most ruthless of her sisters. Whatever was in this box was not good news.
“Why,” he murmured, “did you bring me a box of sweets, Nazyalensky?”
“You know better than anyone that just because something looks sweet doesn’t mean that it is.”
“Are we trading lessons now? I’m afraid I have none to share. What is this?”
“It’s something we’ve been working on, a little pick me up, if you will. I won’t bore you with the intricacies, though I imagine you know the rest.”
“I don’t,” Nikolai ground out, carefully unwrapping the box. Inside was a set of brightly coloured strips, they looked like pieces of translucent paper. “You know we don’t like to get involved in concoctions like the Grisha.”
“That’s interesting,” Zoya hummed, tapping a perfectly manicured nail to her chin. “I’ve been hearing some disconcerting whispers about how your family is planning on changing directions, though thanks to your assurances, I now know that can’t possibly be true.” Nikolai was concerned at how much she’d improved as an actress in their time apart, though this was pure mockery. There had been a time where they had taught each other everything they learned, but she had always loathed acting. She’d considered it a waste of time, why lie when you could cut harder with the truth? They’d been opposites in that way, though that no longer seemed to be the case now. How else had she changed since then? Would she still sigh if he whispered against her neck, would she pull at his hair if he refused to move his lips further than the corner of her mouth? He’d once seen an infinite number of futures for them and this reality had never been one. Nikolai wished he had seen it, maybe it would’ve made the end easier.
“Is that all then?”
“Nikolai,” she chided, shaking her head. “I wanted you to be the first to try it. Are we not trusting each other with the truth today? I’m trusting that you are telling me the truth and now it’s your turn to trust me. What’s a little trust exercise between friends, we are friends, aren’t we Kolya?”
“Zoya--”
Her blue eyes flashed, her tone lashed at him like a whip. “Aren’t we?” She let her eyes drift lazily over his form, but he knew she was calculating again, not actually looking. “Try it, Nikolai.” Zoya’s tone was honey sweet now, it was the voice she used to use to turn nos into yeses, it allowed no room for dissent. He was a fox backed into a corner and he had no way out of this trap.
“Zoya,” Nikolai repeated, “Zoya, come on now, let’s talk about this.” He felt a prickle of fear down his spine. He did not fear her as everyone else did, he feared what she might do. The negotiator’s mein he donned did nothing, however. Her gaze was pure steel, and he felt the looks Genya and Vasily shot at him, he’ll say no. But no wasn’t an option. It never was.
His hand floated over the box and he wished now more than ever that he could sense the magic that made them what they were. Would choosing one lead to a worse fate than if he’d chosen the next? Nikolai picked the indigo strip, his hand steady as he tried one last time to find a way to stop the madness.
“Do it,” Zoya snapped, she’d never been the patient one.
“Zoya, let me explain. After everything, at least give me the chance to explain.”
“Nikolai,” it was Tolya, his voice low, urging him to reconsider.
“What,” Zoya sniffed, “you’d like to get in on the fun too? There’s more than enough for all four of you to share.”
“Tamar,” he called, his eyes still trained on the woman across from him, “keep our brothers in place. None of you are to move.”
“Nikolai,” Tolya tried again, “you don’t have to do this.”
“Quiet,” Zoya snapped, pushing up from her chair. “Do it, Nikolai.” She perched herself on the arm of his chair, she was close enough to touch. The Saints were cruel enough to deprive him the chance to determine if this was a cunning illusion or the inarguable end to their story, if he could touch her maybe he’d glean the truth. Zoya leaned over him, picking the strip from his hands, the ends of her hair brushing his collarbone as she did. His breath had left him, he didn’t need it anymore, not when he was sure of his fate. She drew herself back up, her face mere inches away from his. “Open up,” she whispered, and Nikolai had one last second to hope that against all odds, perhaps she had not written for him to die today. If this was one of his last moments, as pathetic as he knew it was, at least he had looked into her eyes one last time.
He parted his mouth slowly and she placed her index finger under his chin, her thumb running against his lower lip as she tilted his head back, coaxing him to open up wider. “Good boy,” she murmured, placing the strip on his tongue before getting up rather abruptly. Nikolai wondered why the Saints decided to take what was once the beautiful vessel for life and twist it into the beautiful vessel for death. Was everyone killed by what they loved most, or was he an exception?
“The thing that makes these unique,” Zoya turned to the room at large, “is that they don’t sit peacefully on the tongues of liars and cheats. Unless one is virtuous, they’ll find themselves experiencing a different type of reaction, more like pain is being inflicted upon them rather than it being taken away.”
Nikolai blinked once, then twice, her words were muffled, the sight of her was growing fuzzy. This was it then? He felt bile rise in his chest but when he swiped his hand across his mouth, all he saw was scarlet blood smeared across his skin.
“Those who deal with us in good faith,” she continued as Nikolai struggled to maintain whatever composure he could. “Know the particular spell that will protect them from the less than savoury side effects. But of course you wouldn’t know, how could you, given that you don’t deal in the business of creation like we do.”
He felt a cough rise in his chest, propelling him backwards as blood began seeping from between the fingers he’d clapped over his mouth. He wanted to scream, he couldn’t breathe, but no words could be heard, only the gurgling of blood in his chest as he tried to push air in and out of his lungs.
“I wonder who it was then,” Zoya said, “who has been leaking our top secret project and selling it for profit under our noses for far more than we ever planned on selling them for. I wonder who, Kolya.”
Nikolai tried to speak again, tried to call her name, he needed her, he needed Zoya, not whoever was standing in front of him now though he knew they were the same woman, he just wished they weren’t, not now at least. He lurched forward in his chair as another round of coughs racked his body, collapsing to the floor, unable to cushion his fall. He felt his body shake but he was already starting to feel a sense of detachment from his body, he barely registered his head hitting the leg of his chair as he convulsed. Was this what a lack of oxygen did to the brain? Or was Zoya’s magic just toying with him, giving him a brief sort of respite before it truly killed him?
He was lying in a pool of his own blood, even in his haze he knew to roll to his side so he wouldn’t choke on it as it poured from his mouth. He tried to push himself off the ground but his arms and legs felt locked in place.
“This hurts me, Kolya. It truly does,” her lips pulled down at the corners. “I thought we were friends and that friends could be trusted. Unfortunately I see that much has changed over the years, you are not who you once were.”
Neither are you. Nikolai wanted to shout, but he felt whatever fight was left in him pull away from the words. Instead he felt his body continue to shake, teeth piercing the flesh of his cheeks.
She crouched down to his level, pushing a loose strand of hair back from his forehead. “Nikolai, I trusted you.” He hated how he wanted to lean into the action, how the touch felt familiar, how he wondered for a second if there was an ounce of affection left in those eyes.
I didn’t betray you. Why didn’t you let me explain? There were too many words he wanted to say, they were all queued up in his mouth but when her fingers continued stroking his hair back he felt her lift her magic for a second and only one word came out.
“Zoya. Zoya. Zoya,” he cried out, his hand reaching out for her as she drew hers away, causing his insides to continue to crumple. He wished he could see her face one last time, wished he hadn’t listened to her all those years ago when she’d withdrawn. He wished he could call for her one last time as he felt a blinding wave of pain wash over him.
Nikolai fell still on the floor, collapsing in a pool of his own blood, his arm outstretched towards Zoya Nazyalensky.
“Well,” Zoya said, rubbing her palms together as if she were dusting them off, “that’s finished then.” She picked her coat up from her chair making her way towards the door with Genya at her side.
Tolya dropped to the ground, seeking out Nikolai’s pulse as Tamar turned to the woman who’d rendered their golden prince powerless. “Why?”
“The Grisha send their love. It’s the Lantsovs’ turn now.”
Summary: Based on the Rule of Wolves snippet released today. Nikolai wants nothing more than to pull that ribbon free.
A/N: The Rule of Wolves snippet Leigh shared today made me lose it, as you can probably tell by the fact that I wrote this based on a single line from it. Anyways, here’s a short Zoyalai fluff piece, I hope you enjoy! The rest of the fic is under the cut.
Ao3: Ribbons
Nikolai’s fingers twitched as a single strand slipped out of her bound hair, the midnight blue ribbon winking up at him where it curled towards her neck, almost taunting him to do something. Anything. Before he could catch his breath, the moment was shattered as Zoya impatiently pushed the lock behind her ear, continuing to alter the route he’d drawn out on the map, muttering to herself. Nikolai steadied his breathing, leaning over the map beside her, his arm barely brushing hers. She let out the smallest shudder as he shifted, pointing out where he wanted to attempt to push back the Fjerdans, and his eyes flitted to her. Even in a moment as mundane as this, her presence was electrifying, he could feel his pulse flutter as she bent her head, light catching the ribbon again. ‘You’re hopeless, your highness,’ he heard his general’s voice in his head, causing him to let out a sharp laugh. Zoya rolled her eyes at him, jabbing him in the side with her elbow.
“Come on your highness we don’t have all day.”
“Right you are, Nazyalensky,” he shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand again, ‘what was happening to him?’
They sat like that, side by side for hours, debating what the best course of action would be, finally broken apart by the delivery of their dinner trays. As Nikolai tore into a dinner roll, he felt Zoya’s eyes on him. They ate in silence, and the presence of her gaze on him throughout the meal made him curious enough to bring it up once they’d finished. He felt he was the one who was always sneaking glances, and whenever he did, she was never looking back.
“Yes, Nazyalensky?”
“Nothing,” she waved her hand dismissively, her flapping movement dislodging that same dark tress from behind her ear, ‘Saints help him.’ Zoya stood up abruptly, “if we’re done for the night, I’ll see you in the morning then.” She turned for the door and before Nikolai realized what he was doing, he grasped her wrist gently, turning her towards him.
“Lantsov, what—” she paused as Nikolai reached up, tucking the lock securely behind her ear, fingers brushing her cool skin.
“There,” he whispered. There was an extended moment of quiet, and Nikolai worried that he had overstepped. But it was his turn to freeze when Zoya reached out with her free hand, brushing his neck with her fingertips as she smoothed out the collar of his white shirt, fingers trailing down to the first button before she drew it to her side.
“There,” she repeated softly. She looked up at him through heavy lashes, and Nikolai felt whatever little self control he had left vanish. He didn’t just want to do this anymore, he needed to.
“You don’t usually have this in your hair,” he thumbed the silk softy.
“Very observant of you,” she huffed. “What’s the matter with my ribbon?”
“It’s eminently practical but it has the unfortunate effect of making me want to do this.”
Nikolai reached out, tugging the end of the stupid silky ribbon from her hair in one sharp move. Zoya let out a sharp exhale, unawaredly stepping forward and bumping into his chest, her eyes still locked on his. Her inky black waves tumbled down and Nikolai swore in that moment that he was beholding the most ethereal being any one would ever have the fortune of seeing. His hand curled to her cheek, brushing his thumb along her cheekbone, causing her lashes to flutter, and Nikolai’s heart to match.
“Nikolai,” she breathed.
“Nazyalensky.”
Zoya’s eyes shot open, a wildfire was burning brazenly behind them. His mouth fell slightly agape at the sheer intensity of her look, and her next move surprised him even more. She slid an arm around his neck, pulling him down to her lips, her other hand slipping from his to do the same. Nikolai smiled against her, wrapping his own arm around her waist and pulling her close. The cloying scent of wildflowers engulfed him, every part of Zoya overwhelming him completely. He would never be able to get used to this, and so he lost himself in her embrace, fingers curled in her thick black hair.
When they finally pulled apart, Zoya rested her forehead on his shoulder, breathing raggedly, “you idiot. What took you so long?”
Nikolai blanched, “what do you mean, ‘what took me so long?’ I don’t recall you making any moves.”
She scoffed, “Making any moves? For the self-proclaimed ‘smartest person in Ravka’, you really couldn’t be more thick headed. If I knew all it took was a stupid ribbon, I would’ve worn one ages ago.”
“Would kissing you now make up for it?”
She grinned roguishly, her smile lighting up her face, and tugging at his heart, “oh you can try, Lantsov. You’ll find that I have expensive tastes.”
Nikolai laughed, pulling her close, where she fit perfectly against him, her lips soft against his. He shook his head slightly, still in awe of what was happening. Who knew the power that a single ribbon held?
Summary: Sankt Nikolai's day is celebrated on the darkest day of the year, and so the king and his friends have a little celebration of their own this year. ❤️❤️
A/N: Just a holiday Zoyalai fic! I hope you enjoy!
“No!” Genya exclaimed, batting Zoya’s hand away from the tray at the center of the table, “this one’s so much better.” Zoya stared at the snowflake shaped pastry that she was trying to grab as Genya placed a glimmering dessert on her plate. It was a soft golden yellow colour, complete with gilded edges, a beautifully crafted star. She shot Nikolai a look across the table, he’d ordered all the dishes served tonight, it had to be intentional, but she was the only one who knew about the star-shaped scar that sat directly atop his heart, a result of his ordeal in the fold. His eyes flicked upwards and he caught her gaze, shooting her a coy wink before turning back to his heated conversation with Tolya about how best to prank Tamar or something along those lines.
What did the pastry mean, did it mean anything? Was she simply reading into something that wasn't there? She shook her head, looking back to her plate, he was even more insufferable tonight than usual, and she couldn’t figure out why. The whole day had been spent at bonfires, a banquet luncheon, sledding, all leading to this private dinner in Nikolai’s chambers with just the seven of them, maybe he was simply unburdened today. Either way as insufferable as he was, it was nice to see him happy. It wasn’t like he truly showed how stressed he was, but she could always feel it. It was a consequence of all the time they spent together, she would be doing a bad job if she didn’t know him as well as the back of her own hand, and Zoya refused to do anything poorly. There had been a few moments today though where she felt like he was acting even more different than usual, the looks he’d given her were puzzling to say the least. After dinner they sank to the floor around the fire where they passed around drinks and stories that they rarely shared. Flushed with liquor and contentment, they moved on to yet another tradition of Sankt Nikolai’s day, the swapping of presents. Genya and David had gifted him a pair of fur-lined boots, Tamar and Nadia had given him a red wool coat, and Tolya a pair of woolen gloves, all the gifts Sankt Nikolai had received in the old saint story. They’d also presented him with bottles of cherry wine from that street rat’s club in Ketterdam, something he apparently enjoyed, but when a goblet had been passed to Zoya, she had to admit that it wasn’t terrible, it was actually quite good.
As her turn drew closer, Zoya toyed with beading at her cuffs, she was starting to doubt her gift again. Her gift to Nikolai would be the last one opened tonight, and she worried that maybe it was too bold . She wasn’t sentimental, but she wanted to express her thanks to him. A thank you for the peace, the quiet, the companionship for the last three years, and since she couldn’t say it she wanted her gift to communicate it. But as it got closer and closer to the time Nikolai would open her gift she felt more nervous, a feeling that was very uncharacteristic for her.
And that wasn’t even the only thing bugging her. When it was time for the king to present his gift to her, he just smiled innocently and said, “Nazyalensky’s gift isn’t ready yet, she’ll get it later.” What was that supposed to mean? . Maybe she should do the same, and just pretend that she didn’t bring it to their little party-- but no, that would never work, it was clearly sitting in the middle of their little circle.
“Thank you, Tolya,” Nikolai said, his eyes glinting as he embraced his friend with one arm. At his feet lay a bound volume of poetry maybe, but it had Nikolai’s name on the cover.
“Wait,” she gasped, diving over Genya to scoop up the big book, “is this your poetry?”“Nazyalensky, give it back.” Zoya shot him a look in response and he sank back, “fine, you can read one, just ONE.”
She pushed her shoulders back, channeling her inner Nikolai, in all his theatrical glory. “This one is called--”“Not out-loud!”
“Think of this as my gift, since you clearly forgot mine.”=“I didn’t forget your gift, it’s just not ready yet.”
“That sounds exactly like what someone who didn’t get me a gift would say!”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, “fine. You can read one. Just one, commander.”
Tamar let out a sharp laugh, “I can’t wait to hear this.”
Zoya cleared her throat, “it’s called, ‘the harpy...’ really your highness?” At the cheering of Genya and a very tipsy David and Tamar, she continued, ignoring Nikolai’s pointed eye roll.
“floodlit break of day
a perfect, warm beauty fills
pushing away the dark
a brilliant ocean
a royal, sharp blue invites
calling to the eyes
twinkling nighttime
a radiant kiss softly
against the fingers”
”Zoya frowned, “this wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. What is it supposed to be about?”
“Are you kidding me?” Nadia blurted out, “Zoya mmfmfm--” Tamar’s hand clamped over her mouth, keeping her from hearing the rest of Nadia’s sentence.
“What?”
“Oh Zoya, maybe you’ll get it one day,” Genya laughed, throwing an arm around Tolya, “try to work it out tonight. And with that, we need to get to bed, goodnight!” And with a flourished bow, she and the others had collected their gifts and closed the door behind them, leaving her and Nikolai alone, his poetry book still in her hands. She swapped it for the gift box she’d wrapped earlier in the day, the idea of presenting the items in it to him still making her stomach flutter.
“Here,” Zoya thrust the package at his chest, spinning on her heel and tailing towards the door. She didn’t want to stick around and see his reaction, giving him a gift had been embarrassing enough for this lifetime.“Nazyalensky, wait,” warm, calloused fingers grasped at her wrist turning her back around. Nikolai had a strange look on his face, he looked a little confused, a little amused and a little exasperated all at once. “You haven’t gotten your present yet.”
“Wasn’t the poem my gift? We have lots to do in the morning and I have to get to sleep.” She tried to tug free, but the king’s grip was like iron.
“You know it wasn’t, and no, we don’t. Sit.”
She sighed indignantly, strutting over to the armchairs before the fire, her back as straight as a rod, every muscle in her body tense. She really didn’t want to be here for this. Zoya hadn’t put this much consideration into a gift since she’d bought things for Liliyana, and it felt like she was exposing some innermost part of herself by doing it, she could only hope that Nikolai wouldn’t realize just how much time she put into putting the present together.
Nikolai settled into the chair beside her, slipping something under it before she could discern what it was. Odd. “Your wrapping skills are a seven, good, but clearly not as good as mine.”
“A seven ? As if. My skills are a ten, and even if you have absolutely no taste, you would know that they’re at least a nine and a half.”
“Fine. A seven and a half.”
“A nine and a half, take it or leave it.”
“Whatever you say, commander.” His nimble fingers carefully pulled the paper apart at the seams, and Zoya waited with bated breath.
This was a mistake, “Nikolai--”“Oh,” he said softly, holding up the miniature to the light from the fire, “oh.” His fingers trailed over the blonde hair of his mother’s portrait, tracing the golden hair that matched his. “Oh,” he turned his face away from her for a second, quickly scrubbing a hand over his features before he turned back to the box in his lap. ‘Oh indeed.’
Next he pulled out a framed piece of fabric, the flag with a red hound that had flown on his boat-- the Volkvolny. Thumbing the fabric, thoughtfully, he turned to her, “how did you get this?”
“I can’t reveal my secrets,” she replied, nodding at the box again, “there’s more.” She wasn’t about to tell him how enamored she’d been by the ride on his ship to Kerch, how it’d reminded her of what Liliyana used to tell her on their journey to the little palace. How she was surprised by his abilities as a captain, and how she’d enjoyed the trip so much, she’d charmed the crew into giving her the flag as a memento. Not tonight.
“More? You’re spoiling me Nazyalensky.”“Just get it over with.” When Nikolai turned back to the box, Zoya quickly made her way to the door, scooping up the real present from Tolya’s arms before quietly closing the door behind her.
“Zoya, is this meant to fit me?” He held up a small loop of ribbon threaded through a delicate bell.
“Well,” she began, holding the squirming kitten out towards him… "if you don’t want her, Tolya said he would take her.”
Nikolai blanched for a moment, and Zoya felt her heart stop again, what was he going to say? But then, he was lifting the cat into his own arms, “does she have a name?”
Zoya blanched, wasn’t the person whose cat it was supposed to come up with the name? “I can’t do everything for you, your highness.”
“Any suggestions?”
“You can name her if you take her.”
“Of course I’m taking her, Nazyalensky.” He rolled his eyes at her, setting the kitten on the floor where she curled up at his feet. “But why a cat?”
She shrugged, “cats have nine lives, they always find a way to stay on their feet, they’re excellent at keeping their balance, and they’re aloof, and you seem to have experience in dealing with aloof personalities.” Zoya clasped her hands together as she slumped back in her chair, “not to mention that you seemed a little bit lonely-- you know, given with the broken engagement and all.”
“I think I’ll name her Lisa.”
“You want to name your cat… fox?”
“Yes.”“Well, if that’s all,” she began to stand.
“Wait, we haven’t done your gifts yet,” Nikolai protested, “I promise I got you something.” He reached under his seat and pulled out a perfectly wrapped rectangular box, placing it gently in her hands. “I don’t want to overstep, but I hope you’ll at least think about the things in here.”
She arched a brow at him, but he was quiet while she pulled the paper apart. “Are these my beads, from my keftas?”“You drop them more often than you’d think.”
She turned the clip over in her hands, the silver sparkled in the light, and with it’s curved pattern it reminded her of illustrations of a gust of wind, fine lines of sapphire stones intertwined with silver beads. Zoya let out a startled laugh, her fingers pressing into the beads, she hadn’t received something as personal as this in a very, very long time, and here she was taken aback by a pin of all things.
“May I?” Nikolai asked, holding out his hand expectantly. When the confused look stayed on her face, he leaned forward and plucked the clip from her hands. Before she could protest however he was directly before her, his fingers brushing back her hair. Zoya wasn’t thinking anymore, hell she wasn’t sure if she was even breathing anymore. All she could feel was Nikolai’s hands against her hair, pushing her hair back, the barest warmth from his breath by her ear, the determination in his bright eyes.
“There,” he whispered as the clip clicked into place, but he made no move back to his seat. Instead his hand trailed slowly downwards, resting at her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered against her will, and it took everything in her to stop herself from shuddering. Nikolai’s thumb grazed her cheekbone, and the next thing she knew, his lips were pressed against hers. Zoya reacted instantly, her fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer. Saints, she hadn’t realized how badly she’d wanted this, she was barely known she wanted it at all, but in this moment she couldn’t remember wanting anything but this. She leaned in against his touch, her forehead resting against his when they broke apart.
“Zoya?”
“Hm?”“There’s more inside the box.” She let out a little sigh, her head still spinning, the enormity of her actions still not sinking in quite yet. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was her own way of surrendering to this feeling, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care either way, she had wanted to kiss him, and so she had. And now, she wanted to do it again.
“Nikolai, this is a piece of paper.”
“A piece of paper with words on it.”
“The harpy…” she hesitated for a second, letting the words wash over her. “That poem was about me?”
“Yes, Nazyalensky.”
“And the mornings and nights-- those parts were about me locking you in at night and coming to unlock you in the mornings?”
“Yes, Nazyalensky.”
His fingers threaded with hers and she settled her head against his shoulder, leaning into his embrace, “what did the star pastry mean?”
“It didn’t mean anything, I was only trying to see how oblivious you were.”
“Take that back,” she threatened, jabbing a finger at him, “I am not oblivious.”
“Fine,” he amended, raising his hand in mock surrender, “not oblivious, just too scared to admit how much you actually liked me.”
“I’ve never liked you,” she scoffed, “I’ve been tolerating you for years, there’s a difference.”
“So when you kissed me, that was you tolerating me?”
“You kissed me!”
“Hmm sure, dear.”
Zoya huffed at this, grabbing at his collar with one hand and pulling him in for a kiss. “Will that shut you up?”
“No, but you can keep trying.”
“Fine, I will,” and she did.
Summary: Part 4 of The Love of My Life When... a Zoyalai fic.| Zoya gets a call from the last person she wants to be talking to.
A/N: It's been a while since the last update and I'm sorry about that. I actually forgot that I had Part 6 ready, formatted and sitting in my drafts, so here you go! I also forgot how much I enjoyed writing this story and I hope that you enjoy reading this part ❤️.
Sometimes I go blurry-eyed
Small talk and you tell me that you're on fire
Lights on and it's black and white, I couldn't stay forever
“What?” Zoya hissed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Who was calling her at, she glanced at the clock, 3 A.M.?
“You’ve forgotten me already?”
“Nikolai?” She was so incredulous that she forgot to call him by anything other than his name, bolting upright in bed.
“Zoyaaa!”
She blinked, “are you drunk?”
“No. Maybe… a little?” Zoya shook her head, how was this her problem? She reached to end the call when she was stopped by a sudden rush of words.
“Pleasedon’thangup.” She hesitated, she had been about to end the call, but, even if Nikolai had only been a little drunk, he would’ve never asked her to stay on the line, which meant he must be completely wasted. To her knowledge, he’d never gotten this drunk, and she was a little worried.
“Why did you call me, Nikolai?” Zoya asked wearily.
“Tolya’s coming to get me and he saidtotalk to someone until he gets hereeee.”
She considered this, if Tolya thought Nikolai should stay on the line with someone that must mean that Nikolai was too out of it to be left unattended.
“Okay Nikolai, what are you doing right now?” She waited for nearly a minute before she heard Nikolai’s voice, more sober sounding than it had been before.
“I’m waiting for Tolya at Lazlayon.”
She groaned before she could stop herself, “not Kirigin’s? Bad call Lantsov.”
He let out a chuckle, “I designed the bar, I was his first investor and I get free drinks… I think it’s ergonomical to go.”
“Economical?” She felt a smile tug at her lips, despite herself.
“Aye, there’s the rub!”
“Drunk quoting Hamlet now, are we?”
“How well you know me, Zoya dea--” he cut himself off abruptly but she caught what he’d almost said, Zoya dearest. He doesn’t mean anything by it, he’s drunk and it just slipped out, it’s just an old habit. But it being instinctual didn’t stop her breath from catching. It hadn’t been that long, but she hadn’t realized the warmth that his casual terms of endearment had brought her. A cool wave of shame followed the heat today, she couldn’t let herself be affected by him. It’s over Zoya reminded herself… but if it was over then why didn’t her body respond in the same way as her mind?
She heard a sharp inhale before Nikolai broke the silence. “Why did you leave? Zoya… every time I try to understand it, I can’t. We were happy weren’t we?” he huffed out a breath, “from the minute I wake up to the minute I fall asleep, it’s like you haunt me. Even when I close my eyes, you’re still there. You give me that look, the ‘Nikolai, shut up, you idiot’ look, and it burns as much as it always did. One look from you, even the memory of you and I’m on fire,” a humorless laugh choked out, “why did you leave?” he repeated.
“I—I told you from the start, I couldn’t stay forever.”
“Why Zoya?” he said quietly, “Because I wasn’t worth forever? Because we weren’t?”
She felt the walls close in, he was repeating what he’d said to her on the night they’d broken up, sounding just as broken as he had when she’d closed the door on them. “Nothing lasts forever Nikolai, I was just facing the music before it got to us first.”
“That’s not an answer,” a rustle on the line told her he was running his hand through his hair in frustration. She slammed her eyes shut, trying to combat the endearment that always flared up when he did that. Was she really this weak, brought to her knees by an attachment that she severed weeks ago? Or was it just a side effect of being sleep deprived and on the phone with her ex at 3 AM? She shook her head, she couldn’t do this anymore.
“What do you want me to say? I broke up with you because I don’t-- I didn’t love you.” She refused to wince at her words. She refused to wince at his sharp intake of breath, at the silence that followed. He had never told her that he loved her, he had known her issue with the words, and so even if he’d felt that way, he’d spared her from the need to reciprocate. She knew that he had loved her, or at least thought that he did… but had he truly expected her to love him? She had told him from the start that she wasn’t capable of loving, not like that. And he’d accepted it with open arms, just like the parts of herself everyone else turned away. All it told her now, however, was that he was more a fool than she’d originally thought, letting his heart fall into her unintentional clutch. Zoya couldn’t give it back, even though she wanted to. It was his and he needed to let her go.
“Tolya’s here. I should go.” The flatness of his voice was punctuated by the abrupt ending of the call, and Zoya sat there, her phone still clutched against her face, eyes burning, as she stared blankly at the wall. She hadn’t been in love, but if that was true then why did she feel like she was falling apart? Zoya heaved one breath, and then two, repeating to herself that she was okay as the silent tears rained down, staining her cheeks with her emotions she couldn’t name.
Summary: Zoya broke things off to protect them both, or at least that's what she told herself. As the weeks pass and she reflects on her time with Nikolai, things don't appear to be as black and white as they once had.
Nikolai thought that this time would be different, that he had finally found the one. After Zoya left, no matter how hard he tried to move on, he couldn't.
Through memories and lingering interactions will the two will find it in themselves to find their way back to one another?
A/N: A multi-part work based on the song '21' by Gracie Abrams. A modern AU with angst with a happy ending. Part 1 is under the cut and this post will be updated as more parts are posted. I hope you enjoy, and as always comments are really appreciated <3.
Ao3: The Love of My Life When...
Tumblr: PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6
Updated 03/03/2021
I missed your twenty-first birthday
I've been up at home
Almost tried to call you, don't know if I should
Hate to picture you half-drunk happy
Hate to think you went out without me
“We met on your twenty-first birthday.”
“Wrong. It was the day after my birthday.”
Zoya in the video gaped at the phone in his hand, “That’s the same thing! You were born at 10 pm, I met you at 10 am the next morning, that’s within twenty four hours of your birth.”
“Funny, I didn’t know birthday’s worked like that,” Nikolai jested, tugging playfully at a coil of her hair as she scowled at him. “You glided into my life like a stormy angel, but you were a miracle that was just a day late. Promise me no more missing my birthday.”
“You’re such a child,” Zoya huffed, “I didn’t even know you then.”
“Promise me Zoya, you know how important birthdays are.” She recognized the hesitation in video-Zoya’s eyes, she had been afraid of promises like that, no matter how silly they were. She didn’t want to promise him forever when she knew she wouldn’t be able to deliver it. But then she’d thought, ‘he’s not trying to marry you, just do it, it’s a stupid promise he’ll forget about in the morning. It means nothing.’ And so Zoya rolled her eyes and said, “fine. I promise I won’t miss your birthday,” smiling when Nikolai did.
‘There was only one problem with that,’ future Zoya thought, the only problem was that she’d broken her promise, like she’d known she would. Nikolai’s 21st birthday had led her to years of slowly letting down her walls, helping him let down his. They had been good years, she knew that, but she had also known it wouldn't last, it wouldn’t last. And that’s why she ended it. Now three years later, two weeks after she’d called it off her finger hovered over the phone m, debating whether she should call him or not. It was his birthday, it meant so much to him but at the same time he probably hated her, and didn’t want to hear from her. ‘What do you want me to do, Nikolai?’ She switched apps quickly to Instagram, shaking out her head, her pride, her fear, whatever name she gave it today wouldn't let her do it.
Instantly she regretted opening her social media. She usually had a girls night with her friends on Fridays, but today that wasn't the case. All her friends were his friends too-- and so the first photo that popped up on her feed was Genya’s, a picture of the birthday boy looking carefree and goofy, a drunken smile plastered onto his face. ‘He looks happy, ‘ she thought, the blow of seeing his face stinging behind her eyes. His messy hair and loose tie reminded her of the nights they’d spent on the roof of his apartment building, talking for hours, neither of them wanting to be the one who ended the night. The thoughts, ‘maybe I should’ve sent him a happy birthday text,’ and ‘he’s celebrating without me, that smile isn’t for me, he left me,’ jumbled together in Zoya’s head. He wouldn’t want to hear from her of all people, and why would he want her by his side? They were broken up, because of her, as they should be. Everyone else had accepted it, she had accepted it. So why did the rest of her body betray her, longing even when her mind denied any more attachment?
She burrowed into the pillows on her sofa, heart heavy against her chest. It had been weeks, the promise she’d made him in that video was a joke, she doubted he even remembered. She shouldn’t care, he wasn’t in her life anymore, like she’d wanted. Yet the loss of her best friend still lodged inside of her, refusing to let her be at ease. Her first glass wine emptied down to the dregs. And then her second. And then her fifth, until she felt tendrils of sleep tugging her into oblivion.
