A/N: not gonna lie, when you said I could make this as a headcanon set, I almost did, but it’s been a couple years since I’ve written a fic, so I suppose it’s time to practice with a short one :) this is for @eye-of-the-silver-dragon, who was super patient in waiting for me to get to this! I hope you like it! Also, I did a bit of research on chronic pain, but I am by no means a professional, so if I got anything wrong, please feel free to let me know and I’ll change it immediately, no problem at all! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, as there likely will be because I am writing this on my phone at about 1am :) requests are open!
💜Nadia💜
Nadia’s heels clicked on the polished floor as she strode purposefully toward her destination. The day had flown by, every moment scheduled, every task completed in a hurry, all of it somehow happening without a single misstep, and now? Now she was ready to spend some time with her lover.
She had been previously informed that they were having a particularly rough day due to their chronic pain, and although she had sent a masseuse to attend to them, she vastly preferred being able to oversee their wellbeing herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the capabilities of others— slowly but surely, she had been relying on the people around her more and more, and with no shortage of help from her beloved—, she simply enjoyed the act of caring for those that she loved. Nadia was caring by nature, but she had very few individuals who would allow her to worry after them in the way she could her significant other.
When she reached the door she knew her partner resided behind, she slowed her stride and knocked softly. On the off chance they were asleep this early in the day, she didn’t want to wake them.
However, they called “enter”, and so she did, offering a small smile as she almost closed the door quietly behind her, making sure to not let it click into place, so she could push it open easily later without needing to turn the knob again.
They were curled in on themself a bit, not moving to greet her, which she understood completely. She would never want them to do anything to exacerbate their pain, and was glad they seemed to feel the same. She approached quickly and sat beside them, gently running her slender fingers through their hair, carefully to ensure not to jostle them.
“Feeling any better, my love?” She asked quietly, filling her voice with love and concern, and avoiding any intonation that would pressure them to answer with anything but the truth.
“No,” came the equally quiet and simple response. It wasn’t a surprise, although she had been hoping that their pain had somehow lessened. It was upsetting to know that there was nothing she could do to completely alleviate the pain they felt, although she did her best to help them manage; knowing that the one she loved had to endure suffering with no close end broke her heart, but it also made her all the more determined to love them as best she could.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured, “Is it possible that you feel up for a quick walk to the baths?” She had sent servants ahead to prepare the baths the way her lover liked best, and if they didn’t mind the trip, she knew it would likely help them feel much better. After a moment of silence, she added, “I could carry you, if you’d like.”
That resulted in a quiet “yeah” from her lover, and a smile of amusement tugged at the corner of her mouth. As smoothly as possible, she wrapped her arms under and around them, careful not to move them more than necessary. She stood, holding them as close as possible, shielding them from the rest of the world, and exited the room, turning to push the door open with her back as she left.
Only a few minutes later, they arrived at the baths. The curtains were closed, and candles scattered in clumps around the room provided the golden light that reflected off the water of the baths. Petals of various flowers and herbs floated on top, and the gentle smells they gave off permeated the warm air.
Nadia set her lover down gently on a cushioned bench at the side of the room and helped them undress, afterward picking them up again despite a couple protests that seemed more like laughter than genuine annoyance. She grinned happily in return, and walked slowly into the water, pleased to find that it was a comfortable temperature. She let go of her beloved and let them float peacefully, sore muscles relaxing in the warm water.
After a while of bathing in relative silence, enjoying the tranquil atmosphere of the baths, Nadia took a comb that sat by the bath’s edge, looking to her partner for silent permission to work through any tangles in their hair. When they agreed, she moved behind them and slowly began working through the knots, never pulling. After the knots were gone, she continued combing through their hair a while longer, allowing them to fully relax.
Even if she couldn’t take away their pain, she could surround them in every comfort she could afford. A hot bath, a peaceful atmosphere, and a loving hand were the least she could give, and she would continue to give even more for as long as she lived. Nadia loved her partner more than anyone in the world, and she wanted to demonstrate it by providing them with everything they deserved. And they deserved everything and more.
since I probably won’t be writing today and tomorrow (ugh, head is stuffy), here’s another preview of a fic I’m working on
Nadia Amapola never thought she would leave Gotham, but getting accepted into Metropolis University’s School of Medicine was too good of an opportunity to pass up. For the first time in her life, Nadia was moving away from her hometown, her sister, and everyone she holds dear. But change is good…right?
You can take the girl out of Gotham, but you can’t take the Gotham out of the girl. When Nadia stops a robbery during her morning commute, she comes face to face with a soft-spoken country boy turned big city reporter. Clark Kent couldn’t be anymore different from the Gothamite, but they strike up a friendship based on bagels and cheap coffee and conversations ranging from the proper way to eat a pizza to the new hero in town, Superman.
When Lex Luthor offers Nadia a summer fellowship working in his labs to help develop new technology for hospitals, she jumps at the chance to prove herself. But what happens when Clark tells her not to take the chance? Will secrets come to light in time or will they both be to late to save the other?
She didn’t know where you were taking her. Sure, she had been a well-traveled countess, an adventurous Prakran princess who no doubt had seen many wonders of the world. But never had Nadia seen what you were about to show her.
A field of wild lavender, an ordinary one, it seemed. Until your magic pulsed as you took her hand, and she set her mark alight, changing the very landscape—no, the world that surrounded you.
Throughout the field, flowering lavender swayed in the breeze, and from them came glowing hues of purple light, swirling fluidly in the air around you as if wielded by unseen scribes spelling out your names, each stroke of their brushes circling your bodies to draw you closer.
And she did pull you close. Even with sights magnificent and unbelievable as these, a land where her favorite flowers took flight like fireflies before her eyes, she could not take her eyes off you.
You.
Neither could you bear to let your focus drift away from her. Though you stood in an enchanted landscape of living color, she was the most radiant, brilliant presence to behold.
And with the way she kissed your lips, there was no doubt she felt the same about you.
(A/N: Zurkhi had escaped from Firent under charges of dissension and heresy, narrowly avoiding his scheduled execution, and had never returned there since.He was convicted as part of The Order of Wildroses campaigned to remove the cruel, corrupt Papess from the Holy Throne, and to reform the Papacy so that the people had a say in who sits on it. Zurkhi’s powerful family of Priestlords who were loyal to the Papess had sold them out, and he was the only one, out of all his companions, who survived. When he fled, he’d thought that the Order was crushed to dust, never to return again- but tyranny can only go unchecked for so long. (I’m really in this power-couple thing now.))
Relationships: Nadia Satrinava x Zurkhi
Warnings: A few mentions of death and prison.
Words: 1340
*
Standing before Nadia’s tall, silver-framed mirror, Zurkhi straightened out his shawl-collar jacket, pinning away a few strands of wispy crimson hair that had fallen over his face out of sheer habit. It was unlike him to spend so much time freshening up before Court; unlike him too to be naïve enough to think that Nadia might not have caught on to it.
Sure enough, she came up behind him- manicured hands gently gathering up his hair into its usual ponytail, securing it with a black silk ribbon. “Zurkhi,” her hands lingered, sliding down from his ponytail to rest on his shoulders. “There is no need to be nervous.”
He shook his head, pulling out the papers folded neatly into his pocket. “More so a need to be cautious.” He turned them over in his hands. One of them was written in hasty, sharp-angled Firenti, signed off not with a name but with a neat, complex pattern of rose petals in a symmetrical shape that he himself had drawn over many, many times, so many years ago. The symbol of the Order of Wildroses.
We have taken the prison-house, Zurkhi. They had written. What we need is legitimacy.
The other, in Palace stationery, was his own address to the Court, on the role- however small, however symbolic, that Vesuvia might play in offering them that.
It is not a matter of effect, but of principle.
A year ago, two years ago, when he had nothing to lose, he might have rushed back to the land that he had left behind in the middle of the night, his heart in his throat, his life in his scarred hands.
But now, with power comes responsibility, and with that comes-
“Caution?” Nadia met his eyes in the mirror with a small smile, as she clicked on his jade earrings. “Not on my behalf, I hope.” She stroked his scarred brown cheek with the back of her palm, and he turned to face her. “I have made it clear that I can take the pushback, if any arises.”
Zurkhi winced, twirling a strand of Nadia’s hair around his fingers and tucking it behind her ear. “You can do anything, my love.” He stepped closer, leaning up to kiss her cheek. Even in his platformed shoes, he was a head shorter than her. “But I do not want you to be undermined on my account. I-“ Thoughtfully, he stroked a spot beneath her eyes with his thumb. “It is a risk, politically.”
“I am aware.”
He knew that she was.
Firent and Vesuvia were by no means friends- the most cordial parts of their relationship having been the so-far silent agreement to leave the isolated Papacy to its own devices. Taking a public stand on the goings-on of another territory was a dicey, slippery slope in the best of times, but to break the careful, strained silence between these two barely stopped shy of inviting open conflict.
And if that were not enough, the Court was guaranteed to be incredulous, and difficult- more so than usual.
It was a risk.
And had the stakes been not so high, the Order’s fight against the tyrant who sits on the Holy Throne not so incredibly vital, had Zurkhi not been so acutely, horribly aware of how it feels to be hidden- pushed into a room without windows and curtains and hidden, time congealing into a mass of horror in his chest, only broken by the pangs of certainty that his friends were dying, dying, no, being murdered, and nothing to hear him save for the echoes of his own harsh breathing closing down the walls like a horde of ghosts- he would have thought twice, thrice, about taking it.
Suppressing a shudder, Zurkhi let his eyes fall shut, willing the memories away.
There would be no more rooms without windows.
The prison-house had fallen.
The Order that he had once been the sole surviving member of, had risen from the ashes, and was shaking the Papacy’s foundations.
Tilting up his chin with her lavender painted nails, Nadia searched his face, waiting.
Zurkhi swallowed. “I only worry that I may be being rash.” He turned away. “Overcompensating, perhaps. Again.” Hands in his pockets, he began to pace the room. “It is vital that I do this for the right reason; for the Order, for the people, and not to ease my sense of-“ he made a face.
His sense of guilt. But that was a conversation they had had before, and to have it again was for another time.
Nadia regarded him evenly, and stilled him with a hand at the small of his back, turning him around to face her again. For a few moments, she was silent. Then, she chuckled. “Is it not in the rebel’s nature to be rash?”
Leaning his head against her shoulder, Zurkhi tried to smile. “It is in our code of honor to look out for our companions.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, turquoise eyes watching her with undisguised adoration. “And you are the truest one of mine.”
“What was the song, again?” She laughed.
Zurkhi’s shaky smile widened. “To the winds leave your caution, and in the arms of friends, your heart.”
Nadia kissed his forehead. “Then do, my love.” She held him close, wrapping him in silk and tulle, jasmine and home. “I am beside you, come what may.”
Tears sprang to Zurkhi’s eyes, and he looked down at the marble floor until they evaporated. “And you are certain,” he tried, “that I am not dragging you into a fight that is not your own?”
She clicked her tongue, bending down a little to catch his eyes. “ Someone wise and beloved once told me,” she plucked a red rose from a tall lavender vase, tucking it into Zurkhi’s ribbon, “that in a better world, there would be no battles meant to be fought and won alone.”
“But-“
“I would not have agreed to this so easily had I not shared in your convictions here, Zurkhi,” she reminded him, seriously. “You have bettered my world since you walked into it. Allow me to try to do the same for you.”
“You have already,” he countered, “And besides, I recall having said, in the same breath, that in a better world there are no such narrow distinctions- that of my world, and of yours.”
“Ah,” she raised an eyebrow, lips twitching. “Blame it on my old age.” She laughed when Zurkhi rolled his eyes, and pointed out, “That is all the more reason, don’t you think?”
Zurkhi exhaled, feeling the knot in his chest ease slightly. Squaring his shoulders, he slipped the papers back into his pockets, and took her arm. “Alright, Nadi.” His red lashes fluttered as she kissed the jagged scar running over his cheek. “Thank you. As always.”
The walk to the meeting room was silent- the two of them having gone over their arguments and eventualities over and over in extensive detail in the days leading up to this. Ever so often, Nadia smoothed a hand down his back, pulled him closer to her side, squeezed his hand reassuringly, steadying him, catching the doubts before they could spring back again.
At the tall teakwood doors, the Court’s murmur behind them already audible, she paused, giving him a long, lingering look.
“What is it?” He asked, frowning.
Nadia smiled sadly. “Oh, Zurkhi,” she sighed. “You are still at odds with getting what you want, are you not?”
He did not bother denying it, knowing there were no secrets he could keep from that piercing crimson gaze.
Just then, the doors opened, a guard stepping in to the room to announce them.
“Countess Nadia Satrinava, and Suasor Zurkhi.”
Before they could enter, Zurkhi laced his scarred fingers through her smooth, slender ones. “I shall get used to it,” he assured her, “And how could I not?” Tilting their heads to the side, he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “I have you.”
Hi! I just read your description, are you still taking requests? Do you have any rules/ characters you don't write for/ etc?
Hello friend! Yes I'm taking requests of both drabbles and headcanons for any of the 6, I can do reader insert, oc's, fan apprentice, character slash character, romantic or platonic. I like writing fluff and crack but also like to torture myself with angst, so bring it on!
I might do smut requests but give me til august 15th for those although you can send them in now, but stay away from gore or hardcore kink
@lgbteas gave me a prompt a month ago for her apprentice Sage and Nadia. I must say I haven’t written a proper fanfiction for a while and I am so happy how this turned out!! I hope you enjoy <3
Word count: 2,446 words
Music listening to while writing:
-Beautiful Waltz Music - Masquerade Ball
It was the night of the famous masquerade party. The whole city was alit with colourful lights, people swarmed the streets in their extravagant gowns and suits, cheering and drinking, lots and lots of drinking. The festivities were just the beginning for the young magician Sage as she stood on the balcony of the countess palace. She looked down at herself and smiled at the green strapless gown she wore. It was hand picked by Countess Nadia of course, who told Sage that the colour was very fitting for her name. A giggle escaped Sage’s lips at the memory as she gently picked at the gold beads that decorated her gown, as much as she wanted to brush her fingers through her hair, she couldn’t with the gold mask that covered the top of her face that tied at the back of her head. The gold further illuminated her appearance, making her glow under the moonlight, a true earth goddess in the making.
Sage was happy to be attending the masquerade but was instantly overwhelmed by the mass of people who wanted to speak to her. She never liked others prying too much into her private life. For the nobles who respected their own privacy and honour, they sure knew how to not apply the same values towards others.
Sage’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of glass crashing. Turning her head swiftly at the direction of the sound she lifted the layers of her dress above the ankles and walked into the hallway to see none other than Consul Valerius and his groupie of followers. She could tell it was Valerius despite the overly dramatic black mask that covered his entire face, leaving an opening for him to drink his wine. It was all he ever drank or consumed for that matter. Sage looked at his feet and saw his broken glass along with the spilt wine. His white robes were now stained with the rich red wine.
Served him right!
Sage tried her best to stifle her laughter but Valerius heard her.
“What are you looking at witch? Don’t you have anywhere better to be? I heard one of our quests has sprained his ankle from dancing too much. Perhaps you could heal his wound.” Valerius said, his dull eyes looking at Sage with an inner rage, hoping the look was enough to send her a clear hostile message.
The young magician raised her eyebrows in slight amusement as she saw Countess Nadia making her way to Valerius but the Consul didn’t need to turn around to know her arrival. Nadia’s presence alone was powerful enough for everyone to feel from hallways away. Countess Nadia appeared before the group of people looking like a real goddess in her flowy purple and gold gown. She too wore a similar gold mask like Sage’s.
Everyone bowed gracefully before the Countess as she strained a smile at them, she clearly was not impressed by the scene before her. Her warm red eyes locked onto Sage’s for a brief moment before giving Consul Valerius a sour look.
“What is going on here? I thought I heard some unpleasant speech from your mouth, Valerius. Is this true?” Nadia asked almost too pleasantly.
Consul Valerius shifted his eyes left and then right for a split second before addressing his lady directly.
“I represent the people and stand as a model for others but I will not let any inappropriate behaviour pass by me without any confrontation.”
Nadia hummed, Sage could tell that Nadia wanted to roll her eyes at the rubbish he was speaking but refrained from doing so.
“You did not answer my question.. Consul. Did you or did you not say anything rude to my lovely guest?”
“I..” Valerius stammered, “I only told your guest that there is another guest in the ballroom with a sprained ankle who would require some medical attention. She here can heal the wound.”
Unconvinced of Valerius’ story, Nadia urged Sage to come to her side. The silent gesture of her hand was enough for Sage to practically run toward her. Countess Nadia placed her hand on Sage’s lower back, an intimate gesture she often did.
“Is what Consul Valerius said was true, Sage?” Nadia said confidently.
Even though Nadia and Sage were very intimate with one another, Sage still felt a bit nervous around her around others. Perhaps it was the image the Countess was portraying to everyone.
Silently Sage shook her head. “He did mention about the injured guest but he flat out called me a “witch” and from his tone, he clearly did not want me present at all.”
The whisperings among the group of nobles came to a halt. The silence was almost suffocating until Countess Nadia turned on her heels directly at Valerius. The look she gave the Consul was of disappointment and disgust, one of the worst looks one could ever receive from the Countess herself. With grace Countess Nadia reached for a full glass of wine from one of the nobles and silently poured it over Consul Valerius’ head. The nobles almost screamed at the scene before them, they were swallowing this scene up like the greedy bugs they were.
Sage was stunned and didn’t feel the need to say anything as Nadia’s look alone gave the Consul a very clear message. The wine dripped from Valerius’ hair over his already stained white robes. Sage could tell Valerius was pissed from the way he clenched his fists, trying to suppress his rage and embarrassment before turning towards her and giving her a low bow.
“I apologize for what I have said. I was acting out in an inappropriate manner. I ask for your forgiveness, magician.” He emphasized the last word. He did not sound apologetic whatsoever, but blunt and almost harsh in tone.
Sage stared at Valerius with the most deadpan expression she could muster. Honestly, she did not want to apologize but she knew about public etiquette she should. Crossing her arms over her chest, Sage gave him a small, strained smile.
“Do you forgive Consul Valerius, Sage?” Countess Nadia spoke with an amused sing-song voice.
“I forgive you, Consul Valerius,” Sage paused before continuing for dramatic effect, “Perhaps you should return to your quarters and change out of those robes. I do not want others to see you in such a state…the rumours that could spread would be unforgiving.”
Check and mate Valerius! I can play your own game. Sage thought to herself triumphantly.
Consul Valerius stood up straight to compose himself before turning away from everyone and marching down a small dark hallway without uttering a single word. The nobles didn’t dare continue their shameful banters. Of course, Countess Nadia came to the rescue and pushed Sage in the opposite direction towards the main setting where the ballroom was located. Countess Nadia turned to her guests with a simple elegant gesture of hospitality.
“Excuse me, everyone, I am in need of my magician’s assistance. Please enjoy the festivities and food.” Nadia smiled at her guests one last time before directing her attention to Sage.
“Shall we. my dear?” Nadia lowered her smooth voice just for Sage to hear as she outstretched her arm for Sage to take. Sage’s heart almost leapt out of her chest the way Nadia gave her that mischievous glint in her red eyes. This was the woman she came to know and love, the warm and teasing Nadia.
Taking Nadia’s slender arm the two walked side by side to the ballroom. Being near Nadia made Sage feel bold and confident in herself, her body language portraying those thoughts as she straightened her back, chin raised, and eyes looking directly forward. She felt like she could do anything with Nadia by her side. With that thought in mind, Sage brought Nadia’s hand up and planted a delicate kiss on the back of her hand, the gesture amusing the Countess greatly.
“My, my, are you feeling quite bold tonight~” A shade of pink dusted the Countess’ cheeks, a rather flattering look Sage thought amusingly.
“I have been hiding my bold side for a long time Countess.” Sage said.
Nadia hummed to herself as one of the guards opened the white and gold door that led into the large ballroom, “Perhaps we need to spend more quality time then. I want to get to know every little thing about you.” The Countess stated in a matter of fact tone.
Entering the ballroom, Sage was in utter awe but the scene. It looked far more grandiose during such festivities than it ever did on a normal day. Chandeliers covered the ceilings, the candlelights on them illuminated the fine illustrations that Sage could finally see under proper lighting. The floors perfectly polished in a shine that looked far too precious to walk on along with the violet carpets perfectly strewn across the floors. No matter where Sage looked, all she saw was colours of gold and red.
Suddenly the bustling crowd started to pull apart from the centre of the ballroom. Music began to play as Sage could feel the buzz of excitement from the guests as partners were chosen and following them onto the dance floor. The young magician just remembered she was still holding onto Nadia’s arm and started to pull away when the Countess grasped her had swiftly and turned to her, her tall and slender frame curtsied before Sage.
“Will you honour me with the first dance, Sage?” The Countess spoke loud enough for everyone to hear. Perhaps that was her intention from the beginning. Sage could already hear the murmurs and gossip but she didn’t care. All she wanted was Nadia and that was what she was going to get.
The beautiful magician smiled slyly at Nadia. “Oh, thank goodness you asked. I accept.”
Sage and Nadia, hand in hand walked to the centre of the ballroom where Nadia positioned one arm on Sage’s lower back and the other holding her hand delicately. Nadia made sure there was little space separating them on this special night.
“I would have been very sad if you did not accept my invitation.” Nadia whispered in Sage’s ear and the two began to slowly spin around the room. The waltz was the perfect dance for everyone with a lot or little dancing experience.
Sage smiled at the comment, her heart beating faster in her chest. “Oh? And what if I said no?”
“Than I would have found other means to spend some quality time with my favourite magician.” The Countess chuckled in amusement at the thought. What was going through her mind, Sage would never know.
“To be fair,” Sage paused, “I could never say no to you Nadia. You look stunning tonight~ This is too good to be true.”
“Quite the flatter tonight I see. I accept your honest words, my dear Sage. But I think it’s you who looks stunning. Like a goddess rising up from the earth and adorned with only the finest clothes.” Nadia stared at Sage affectionately, bringing her face so close where she could almost kiss the beautiful magician in front of her.
The two continued to twirl around the ballroom in time with the music, everyone around them began to blur as they continued to lock eyes with one another, the flirtatious banter never missing a beat with their steps.
The Countess spoke up after some comfortable silence, “The shade of green on your dress looks absolutely stunning. You are a hidden and treasured beauty that deserves to be perceived and valued.
“Oh, Nadia you are being quite the flatter yourself!” Sage began to laugh at Nadia’s comment. The heat rising to her neck and ears.
“Sage you look cute when you are embarrassed. I shall spoil you more,” Nadia hummed in deep thought before continuing, “You are a fantastic dance partner I must say. The previous dance partners I had were all about ungraceful big steps and constantly stepping on my toes, but you my dear are an absolute natural.”
“What can I say, Nadia, I learn from the best when you are leading.” The young magician couldn’t help but smirk at her remark.
“Perhaps you can be an obedient pet of mine and follow me to the balcony.” Nadia spoke in a hushed voice as the music came to an end. Sage had to get her bearings for a moment when the Countess arm still on her lower back guided her through the bustling crowd of guests. Nadia spoke over the loud noise of the people.
“If we want some privacy we must make our escape now or we will be stuck speaking with Valerius and his followers again.” The thought of seeing Valerius again briefly soured Sage’s mood but propelled her to quicken her pace to the balcony that overlooked the palace gardens. Little light was present besides the illuminating moonlight.
The two stood together alone and away from the bustling festivities. A loud sigh was heard from Sage.
“Tired my dear?” Nadia raised a brow questioningly.
“Not when I’m with you, Nadia. I am just relieved to be away from the crowd. The dance was a lot of fun but I cannot stay in a room like that all night long.”
Sage’s eyes stared at the moon with fondness when she suddenly felt Nadia’s arms wrapped around her waist. Nadia gently placed her chin on Sage’s shoulder, kissing her cheek affectionately.
“I too find busy crowds to be quite unpleasant but as Countess, it is my duty to interact with the people. I wish I could spend more times like this…alone with you.” Nadia’s voice was but a gentle whisper to Sage, almost lulling her to sleep.
Feeling a bit gutsy, Sage turned around in Nadia’s grip, her hands brushing Nadia’s cheek with such care and delicacy that the Countess’ face started to heat up, her red eyes shining in a warmth and passion that it was impossible to look away. Without a single word uttered, Nadia leaned down and kissed Sage, her arms holding her partner close to her until there was little room for either of them. Their lips pressed against one another’s in a gentle, yet passionate kiss, a dance that was very reminiscing of the danced they shared in the ballroom not too long ago. Over and over they shared kiss after kiss until they had to pull back for air.
The smiles on Sage’s and Nadia’s faces could not be concealed. Nothing could hurt them or ruin their day as long as they had each other. May the moon be witness to their love.
Pairing: Nadia x Lucio, with mentions of Lucio x OC and Asra x Nadia
Title Taken from “To an Athlete Dying Young” by AE Housman
Word Count: 3391 AO3
Summary: On the night of that fateful Masquerade, Nadia ponders over the turbulent history of her marriage, and her complicated feelings towards her utter mess of a husband.
Warnings: Angst, Red Plague and it’s associated symptoms, Thoughts of Death, Depictions of Illness, References to Unhappy Marriage and Complicated Relationships, Canon-Divergence
*
She much preferred the Count’s wing dimly lit just so, the sole chandelier burning low, most of the garish colours of her husband’s preference kept mercifully shadowed and out of her view. And yet, the Countess could not suppress her own trepidation as she sat at the edge of his bed, her hands neatly clasped upon her lap, watching him take one labored breath after another. Not long, now, she thought. His paper-pale skin was webbed with red veins, and the fever has been taking him far, far away into delirium these days- absently, she wished she had kept Sybilla from leaving on her mission. It seemed unlikely, now, that he may last until she returns.
Nadia shifted, uncertain, as he murmured a few words in a strange language in his uneasy sleep. Why was she here? There was nothing to do here, nothing in particular to be fixed. Perhaps she only wanted a few blissful moments of quiet before the Masquerade began, and ironically, with the library crowded with medics and magicians, with her contemplation tower far too close to the open ashy sky, and everywhere else thrumming with panicked Masquerade energy, Lucio’s darkened bedside had proved to be that place of quiet. She suppressed an unseemly burst of laughter- who would have thought that he could have given her quiet? What was she to do now? Nadia fidgeted with the emeralds around her fingers. He whined in his sleep, and then coughed deep and harsh, struggling to draw breath. He groaned, and a tear made its way down his emaciated face. Nadia cast around, anxious to find something. She took the neatly folded towel from its tray, dampened it from the bowl’s medicinal water (she remembered the Apprentice who had concocted it- “it helps with the nightmares, milady,” he’d said, his voice scratchy and exhausted- he’d died shortly after, that gentle young man with his tinctures and poultices), and laid it against his forehead, pressing out it’s creases.
The water seeped into Lucio’s skin, and suddenly, he sputtered awake. He coughed once more, wincing at the spray of blood that hit the covers, whimpering, until his red eyes fell on Nadia. His lips quirked up in a smile. “Missed me, Noddy?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
The action was not nearly as infuriating as it had once been- what with his brows unpainted and his face wasted and dull with fever-sweat. Even his nasal, obnoxious voice was not what it used to be- it was rough, scratchy and strained with effort. Nadia evaded his question, “Happy Birthday, Lucio,” she said, smiling faintly. He frowned. “Birthday?” he asked, uncomprehending for a few moments. Then, as though only just remembering it, he grinned, the action making him look a little more alive. “Oh yeah!” He raised his voice, then winced and coughed again. “Do not strain your voice so, dear.” Nadia said flatly.
In the same hoarse, scratchy tone, he went on, “It’s my birthday! Are they all lining up downstairs? Is everything gold-” She tuned out his ramblings, inconsequential as they were, as it dawned on her that never, in the six years they had spent wed to each other, had Lucio ever forgotten his own birthday. His excitement would be palpable at least several months in advance, and it would mount to a crescendo at the Masquerade when he descended from the staircase to the ballroom, popping open a bottle of cloudberry liqueur and spraying it carelessly onto the revelers. She had found that behavior touching and sweet in those initial, happier years. The sentiment would later be replaced by a bitterness that had come to cloud everything she felt for the man- then the excitement became distasteful to her, irritating and juvenile as everything else he does. But now, as she watched him rasp out his eagerness for a Masquerade that he would, very likely, be too weak to attend, Nadia felt another, cold-warm emotion settle upon her heart. He was going to die. What was this, this still, queer emptiness? She had imagined his passing often before, often in jest, and often in earnest. Imagined stripping these walls of their bright red drapings, taking down his portraits one by one by one, sending his weapons to the armoire, burying him and his misdeeds, and then, slowly, cleaning up Vesuvia on her own terms without his bulldozing and sabotage, sending away those dreadful, dead eyed courtiers. She had thought it through with great determination as she tinkered away in her tower, often toasted to it with a full glass of Golden Goose late into the night, often whispered it onto Asra’s sweaty skin as they lay side by side. He could not die soon enough. And yet, as she came eye to eye with that bald faced reality, contemplating that very soon that she would have to strip down these chambers and send away his dogs to the menagerie- she found herself overcome by this- this peculiar reluctance.
“Noddy, are you listening?” Lucio’s insistence snapped her out of her thoughts. “What was that, my dear?” she asked, still distant. “I said you have to wait till the sprinklers begin to send out the peacocks.” He repeated. “Indeed.” She said, turning her gaze to him. He fell silent, likely out of breath. He could not speak now for long stretches of time. At any other time, she might have considered it a blessing. But he was suffering, Nadia knew, suffering this long, drawn out agony that was his illness. Who knew he would meet his end this way, in this form, stripped of everything he was, confined to his bed, at the mercy of someone as vile as Valdemar? He reached out, put his hand on her arm. His touch was papery. She did not shake it away. “I don’t think I can go out there today,” he said quietly. She forced herself to meet his tired, tearful eyes. “It’s not fair, Noddy.”
She scoffed. Of course- a city burns and this should be his priority. But then again, Nadia had never teetered that close to confronting her own mortality. She would have excused him for his selfishness, had he not been just as self-absorbed, just as hard headed in his better days. “Unless..” he waggled his eyebrows again. “Unless you carry me downstairs,” he smiled then, utterly shameless, even while hovering an inch over the grave.
Nadia rolled her eyes. “No.” She said firmly. “That would be quite unbecoming.” To her astonishment, he did not put up a fight. “Yeah,” he agreed, quite reasonably. “That would ruin your outfit, and we can’t have that.” Nadia held her tongue, and he fell silent again. He looked away from her, longingly, at the portrait mounted on the wall, and he sighed. It does not befit him, she decided. The genuine morosity in his countenance unsettled her. A thought crept unbidden- that she had rather preferred his unbearable whining and unreasonable, petty bickering, over this- this silence. What was it that squeezed her heart so vice tight that her very breath came fractured from her throat? The man before her was a shadow of himself, and soon, he would fade away too. He would be gone, like everything else that was slowly draining away from her, from this city. Suddenly, breathlessly, she missed her family. Why, she wondered. What was it about Lucio’s impending passing that made her want to rush to Prakra, bury her face in Nasmira’s shoulder or against Baba’s chest and hide, hide, hide. She dispelled it with a quick, dismissive wave of her hand, as though the thought were a beetle scuttling overhead. It made her feel weak, juvenile. She wondered if she should leave. She has yet to get dressed for the Masquerade, and this unfamiliar feeling was the wrong sort of puzzling. (She could fix up ancient clocks, invent pocket watches that chimed tunes in twelve different languages, and hovering trinkets that soared towards the sky when keyed in- matters of the heart, however.) As she was about to rise, Lucio spoke.
“Don’t worry, Noddy,” he said, turning to look at her with an uncharacteristically soft smile. “It’s going to be over soon.” For you. She wanted to cry. For you, and we would be left living, and alone. Alone. What was it about the thought of not having him that made her feel as though she would be alone? He was overcome by another fit of coughing, and she patted his arm lightly, waiting for it to pass. “I don’t like you seeing me this way.” He said, when he was done. “But you won’t have to, not for long.” Nadia raised her eyebrows. He must feel the end settling, then. She thought of family again.
When she had accepted Lucio’s proposal, and woken up the following morning with a terrible hangover and not an ounce of regret, Nafizah had deigned to cast him a curious gaze. In her peculiar, grating self-possession, she pronounced her vague impression of Nadia’s fiancé. “He is beautiful, I don’t doubt, Nadia.” She ran a hand through her long pink tresses thoughtfully. “There is passion, and yet-“ She frowned. “Something so incomplete, that unsettles me. He is young however, younger than you, and completion is after all, a distant dream to the best of us.”
“’Fizah!” Natiqa piped, laughing. “Is that your way of calling him young and hot? No wonder you’re still single.”
Nafizah paid her no mind, as the Crown Princess rarely paid anything any mind- Nadia, the least of all. “I would assume he struggles with the ending of things, and solitude.”
Nadia had shrugged it off- she only remembered the look in his eyes and the wine flush on his cheeks when he held her hand and spoke with a sincerity that felt like a punch to the gut. “You’re smart, Your Highness, and you’re not like the rest of them, and I don’t know how to rule a city, but I think you’ll be the best Countess the world has ever seen.”
Faith. Faith in her. Faith in her independence. When she leaned in to kiss him at the Temple District Square as the wedding harps chimed loud, for a brief, short-lived, glorious moment, Nadia knew the taste of freedom.
What would Nafizah say now? What would Nasmira do? Would Nazali tell her to not resign herself to a man’s passing lest sheer resignation hastened it? Would they stay by his side to ease his pain? Would they tell her what she was feeling, and what to make of it? “Dearest,” would Navra ask, “do you want to know at all?”
Abruptly, she asked her husband, “Are you quite certain that I should not send for anyone else, Lucio?” Now that he seemed to have accepted his impending death, she deemed it fit to repeat the question. “Family, friends, anyone?” There was Sybilla, she knew, who was tight lipped about their shared history. “I knew him by another name,” she had said, “We grew up together, but a lot of it isn’t story to tell.” and nothing more. Perhaps she should have asked Sybilla before she had left. “No,” Lucio answered, just as he did the first time she had asked him. “There’s only Lillie, and she’ll come back soon.” His hand slipped into hers, and he laced their fingers together. “When I get better, and when the plague is over, I’m leaving.”
Nadia stared at him. He must be delirious again. “Will you now, my dear?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, still resolutely looking into her eyes. “You were born to rule, I- I’m not. I’ll leave Vesuvia, I told Lillie we’ll go together.” He gave her a shaky, dreamy smile. Nadia was alarmed. His hand was white-hot in hers, his face flushed and his eyes unfocused. “Lucio, shall I call for Doctor Devorak?”
“Huh?” he shook his head, and ignored her. “Noddy, I just need to stay alive until- till Lillie gets back. Everything’s gonna be fine, you’ll see.” His voice crept up an octave. Nadia reached for the summoning bell by the bed. “Noddy,” why, he looked as though he would cry. Nadia gave his hand a squeeze, and gave the bell a ring. A chamberlain popped his befeathered head. “Doctor Devorak, please.” She snapped at him. His eyes wide as saucers, he darted away. She gripped his hand with both of hers. Is this what you do for a dying man? Do you hold his hand? Do you stamp out the strange urge to weep? Do you feel Death wrapping their ice cold arms around you and stay, as though they were an old friend? He coughed again, and cried out with so much pain that Nadia winced.
“I just have to stay till Lillie gets here. It’ll be over soon.” He told her, his voice frantic, almost pleading. Nadia felt quite ill. “Alright, Lucio, calm yourself.”
Winded, he struggled for a few breaths, and then he could draw one in, and another. Still breathing harshly, he said, “You can repurpose my wing, and release my menagerie. Don’t take down the paintings though, just switch places. I’ll take my dogs, and I’ll leave.” Even in delirium, his eyes were bright and admiring, as they so often were towards her when they weren’t head to head, even after he was no longer the man whom she married. “You’ll do a great job, Noddy, you’re smart and you know how to handle these courtier types.” His face twisted in distaste, and she could not suppress a small laugh. “We had a good run, didn’t we, Countess?”
Nadia inhaled sharply, and then she looked away. No. They had a terrible run- a broken, desolate, tawdry history of failed communication and apathy, of irreconcilable differences and resentment, of his heartlessness and incompetence and her attempts at papering over those ever widening cracks. The fire still raged, and the ash had not since cleared from the sky. Everything had fallen apart under them. How tragic it was, how pathetically ironic, that he should be the only person remaining with faith in her. It took Nadia every drop of her painstakingly cultivated, carefully trained restraint to not just- scream of frustration, then and there.
We had a good run, didn’t we, Countess?
He was dying.
She remembered how he had watched her with that same admiring fondness as she stumbled through a basic, hasty speech at the commissioning of a residential project at the Heart District. “You were amazing, Noddy!” he’d exclaimed, thumping her on the back with his golden arm, looking as though he would explode from the excitement. “I know I’m good with words, but you’re almost as good with words, everyone loved it, you’re the best Countess ever!”
Another time, after another dreary, unproductive diplomatic tiff, he had grabbed an Atapran emissary by the collar of his robes, gauntlet inches away from ripping a gash on their face, already to the detriment of undoing years of mutual political allyship, and shattered the wine glass in their unfortunate hands. “Talk to Noddy like that one more time, and I’ll have you hung, alright?”
His confidence in her had never wavered. How horribly, how utterly she has failed if she has failed even by his standards.
He struggles with solitude, and the end of things. Who, in this tired world, didn’t?
And then she knew what to name that vice around her heart.
Grief. This is what had led her here today, then.
Soon, his eyes would shut for the last time, and she would never see his admiration for her, his blind, foolhardy optimism and adoration reflected in them. He would never again growl at anyone who spoke to her with impudence (despite her distaste for unnecessary heroics), never bid his dogs to hush if she were sleeping. He would never again drunk-stumble along with his accomplices at the Masquerade asking them gleefully- “Haven’t met my Countess, have you? She’s the best.”
His pride in her and her accomplishments had once, for a brief and far more hopeful time, been a warm, sharp blaze, spurring her onward, urging her to outdo herself. And yet, as Nafizah had said, it was incomplete. It had fallen apart as quick as a candle snuffed out with a heavy hand, mired in his deviance and underhandedness, and his obstinate, pointless, selfish cruelty. Everything unfinished, as Nafizah had said, everything undone- terms unmet, a partnership broken into dust. Nothing to be fixed here anymore, only to be moved away, only to be cleaned up and disposed off. A corpse of potential. Everything they could have been together has come to nothing. Perhaps grief is the yearning for another day.
Unbidden, she felt a memory rise like vapour.
A long, sleepless night, the faint sound of someone absolutely massacring a waltz on the ballroom piano, and Nadia had followed the cacophony, fully prepared to demand an explanation from the offender. Tracking her quarry, she found a terribly nervous chamberlain plucking at the keys with trembling hands, and then the sound of boisterous laughter. Lucio was in the middle of the ballroom with his dogs. He had both of Mercedes’ paws in his hands, and he was swaying gracelessly, attempting to twirl the hound, and only cackling when he fell short. “We’ll make a ballroom star of you, old girl.” His grin was boyish and charming, a glimpse of the man he had been when he had asked her, begged her, to marry him.
We had a good run, didn’t we, Countess?
We could have. How I wish we did. And here we are, you and I, out of time.
Hastily, Nadia pinched the bridge of her nose. This was no time for tears. She opened her mouth to speak, and was interrupted by the door opening. It was not Julian Devorak who rushed in, but Asra, already dressed for the Masquerade, his gown swirling behind him in a storm of many colours. “Ilya isn’t-“ He paused beside her, his fingers clenching around his fox-mask, lips pulled into a questioning frown. “Nadi?”
“He is quite ill, Asra.” She said briskly. As if on cue, Lucio started to strain for breath again, scrabbling at his throat, mumbling again in that strange language. “Oh, alright,” Slowly, gingerly, he made over to Lucio’s side. Nadia rose. “I shall have to get dressed, it is already quite late.”
“I’ll be here,” Asra assured her. “Go.”
As she turned to leave, she heard Lucio call out to her.
“Noddy,” he asked, panting, the ghost of a smile in his still impudent voice. “Where’s my birthday kiss?”
Without sparing it a single thought, a sudden wave of emotion made her sweep back to his side, nearly knocking the unsuspecting magician out of the way as she dove down to press her lips against Lucio’s. He reciprocated, as though surprised by her enthusiasm, tangling his arm in her hair, bringing her closer. She could feel his ribs as she pressed against him, could feel the slow pulse in his throat. If she ran her hands down his arm and back she knew she could feel the ridges and dents of old battle scars, testaments to the burning, blistering, desperate resilience that had brought him thus far only to have him squandered so, only to have him die so young, to have him succumb to this. She could feel how his fevered body strained to hold her, as though for the first time, as though for the last time.
(When had Lucio not clung to her, to everyone with this desperation, as though everyone within his reach would vanish if he loosened his grip?)
When they parted, he slumped back, even while trying to lean toward her to kiss her again, once again. But he could not, and so he fell back on to his covers, his eyes terrified and watery and far too young to die. Asra’s amethyst eyes met hers, briefly with a look she did not yet know the meaning of- a jumble of hope and exhaustion and confusion, and a sliver of short-lived guilt. He laid a palm on Nadia’s back, only for a moment, before she left. If Lucio had tasted the salty dampness of her tears against his lips, for once, he held his tongue.
That Nadia fic you shared in your latest headcanons was extremely good. Do you know any other good fics of her ?
not really, I’m sorry. I have a ‘nadia fic’ tag where I gather prose about her.
But i don’t have any real fan fics about her (except for one other explicit one that I’m dying to see an update of, but I think belongs to an orphaned account at this point?)
Maybe people can add their favorite fics in the notes ^^
