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The images floating in front of him were hard to grab onto. Nikolai was aware only vaguely of what was moving past him- other shadows, ripping and tearing at him. The air was thick, impossible to see through, even in this body that was not quite his. He could hear the screams of the monsters around him, the shouts from people on the ground, but his mind was a pulsing mess of fear and anger. He felt as if he was drowning, trying to find himself again in this monster he’d become. But then he felt something burst deep inside him, and his wings faded from his back completely, the claws pulling back into his fingers. And then he was falling, the ground rushing towards him quickly, falling, falling-
But before he felt the heavy impact from hitting the ground, a gust of wind came out of nowhere, and gently lowered him down, as gentle as slipping into a bath. He forced his eyes open, and could see Zoya looking down at him, worry in her eyes. Her face was burned, raw and red, but she was lovely, always so lovely. She looked like everything he’d never get to keep. He faintly remembered seeing her from a distance, nothing more than a figure in her blue kefta, but she was here now, not even an arm length away, looking at him, eyes wide. He looked at her closely, and the bittersweetness that had overtaken him was transformed into something else entirely. Hunger. And suddenly, he realized, the monster was not gone at all. And it wanted her.
He felt out of control of his body, hands reaching up, claws returning, full of desperation, clamping onto her dirty kefta, fear taking over her face, as he opened his mouth to deliver one last bite-
He gasped, sitting straight up in bed. Nikolai panted desperately, trying to control his fear. He looked around, madly, and saw, as during most nights, Zoya curled up on her side, next to him. In one piece, not eaten by his demon on the Fold all those years ago.
He couldn't find a way to control his breathing. His fingers ranked through his hair, feeling them shake. He sat there, breathing, until he nearly jumped when a hand closed around his wrist.
"Are you alright?" Zoya asked, still sounding half asleep. He pulled back, looking at her. She was blinking herself awake, her other hand going to rest on her slightly rounded stomach.
"Did I wake you?" he asked, ignoring both her question and how completely wrecked his voice sounded.
She shrugged, and pulled herself up in a sitting position beside him. "Hard not to wake up when you're breathing like you've been running through a battle."
He laughed, more lightly than he felt. She was more right than she knew.
"Nightmare?" she asked, tilting her head at him. He took a moment to simply look at her. Her pregnancy had only increased her beauty, and despite the hour, she looked lovely. Lovely, and still so alive.
He shuddered, and moved to pull out of her grasp. "It's nothing," he told her, wanting to put this behind him. They- and their beautiful, complicated Ravka, for that matter - had come so far. They didn't need to rehash old hurts. He knew despite his reassurances in the past, Zoya was still not entirely comfortable with the demon.
"I would be concerned if nothing had you waking up in the middle of the night sounding like that," Zoya retorted. She gripped his wrist tighter, and used her other hand to send small flames to light the candles across the room. Nikolai felt better just from the light, which reflected from her face like fine jewels. He knew better than to assume she'd let him worm his way out of this conversation. They'd learned, since the war had ended, that keeping each other strong often meant making each other talk.
"Did you ever stop to think how close we were to never having this at all?" he asked, softly. He turned from her, and looked at the map hanging across the room. "How close the war, all the fighting, were to taking us away from each other before we even knew what we'd be missing?"
"Of course I have," Zoya said, as direct as ever. "You know I have nightmares about what happened with Elizaveta, about you dying on the Fold during the ritual. Not to mention if I’d gotten there just too late in that last battle with the Fjerdans-"
"Even before that," he cut her off. "Back during the civil war, when we were fighting the Darkling." He paused. “You know, the first time.”
"Is that what you were dreaming about?"
He tensed, still unwilling to look at her. He thought of how he'd thought of her back then- the snippy, gorgeous Grisha, who always seemed to be contrary just for its own sake. He hadn’t thought much more of her than one of the many Grisha who’d been at Alina’s side- though he’d remembered her interrogating him about his strategies even before he was a King and she a General. Her beauty had been distracting- it always had been- but there had been so much more to think about during those dark days besides the beautiful Squaller who seemed to be making Alina so unhappy.
Alina had been the one to bring his attention to her, both when they were debating on who he should marry- he did owe the sun summoner for being correct, he supposed- and later, when she'd wanted Zoya to be the third member of the Triumvirate with Genya and David. He'd been surprised over Zoya's inclusion, but compared to his relationship with Genya at the time, it had seemed like a breeze to deal with her constantly questioning him. He hadn't yet seen her strength, her heart.
And if he had killed her that day in the Fold, he never would have. Nikolai had long come to terms with his demon, could control it, had complete mastery when it came out. He was the monster and the monster was him. But he still was guilty for the times he had not been able to do so. He had nearly killed Zoya that day at Balakirev and by then, he would have known what he was missing if she’d been gone from his life, even if he hadn't been able to name it quite yet.
"I dreamed we were on the Fold." He turned to face her, looking into her blue eyes. "During what we thought was the final battle with the Darkling. Alina had finally stabbed him, and his power had left me. I was turning back into myself, and I was falling...until you caught me."
"That did happen," Zoya told him, rolling her eyes. "I caught you, and we survived."
"Yes," Nikolai agreed. "But in my dream, you didn't. The monster came back, and I...and I..."
"It was just a dream," Zoya reassured him. Her hand came up from his wrist to his chin, forcing him to keep looking in her eyes. "You didn't hurt me, Nikolai. I'm here, I'm real. I'm safe."
Nikolai swallowed hard, relief pouring through him. "But if I had- I never would have known what I was missing," he told her desperately, sounding dreary enough to challenge Adrick on an average day. "Not just me- all the Grisha, all of Ravka- the world would have been so lesser without you in it."
She stroked his face. "But it isn't," she repeated. "I'm fine."
He shook his head, a dark chuckle slipping out. "I know, you are both," his eyes dropped to her stomach, "fine, but the terror I had in that moment, in the dream...it felt so real. Even in my dream, even though I barely knew you at that point, I knew something was going terribly wrong." He thought back to those days as the monster. He didn't remember much, just trying to track Alina down and following from a distance. He'd smelt Adrick's blood in the air.
Zoya had just been one of the few who'd stayed with Alina the entire journey, running from the Spinning Wheel to Dva Stolba to hunt the firebird, and finally to the Fold. He remembered seeing her from a distance as she sent wind through the volcanic ash in the trees. Her hair had been loose, flying through the wind.
Zoya sighed deeply. "I promised myself I was never going to tell you this, not wanting your head to get any larger, but maybe it will help." She shifted, pulling her legs up until they were folded in front of her. "Do you remember when you asked Alina to marry you? When you gave her the Lantsov emerald?"
"Hard to forget being turned down by my first saint," he said, trying to lighten up the conversation. His voice still sounded too shaky to have properly done the job.
"She came back to see us in our rooms- me, Genya, Nadia, and Tamar," Zoya continued, acting as if he hadn't spoken. "She showed off the clothes you'd gifted her for your doomed trip to West Ravka, and the ring, of course. She told us she hadn't said yes, that she wasn't sure what to do-and I..." her voice trailed off, and Nikolai watched a smug smile grow on her face. "I told her to break it off with you, to break your heart and let me pick up the pieces. I told her I'd make a magnificent queen."
Nikolai couldn't help it- he barked out a laugh that loosened all the tension in his chest. "You wanted me even back then?" he asked her, with a fond smile.
"You know me," she retorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "It wasn't you, it was the throne."
He laughed again, and pulled her closer to him, tucking her under his arm. She smiled up at him. "You gave me hope, during our darkest days," she said, softly. "I was worried about you, even then. I think I was annoying Alina, with all the questions I was asking her about what happened to you."
At the mention of Alina, Nikolai's previous train of thought returned. "You know, right before the battle at the Spinning Wheel, she was turning me down again. I had asked who I should marry instead, if it should be a Shu Princess or a Kerch Banker’s daughter. She told me it could be a Ravkan heiress, or," he paused, wanting to drag out the moment, and added, "or a Grisha like Zoya."
His wife gasped. "She didn't," Zoya practically hissed.
Nikolai nodded. "Oh, yes she did. No doubt after your previous conversation. I, of course, had no idea about it at all, so it did seem a bit out of the blue to me."
"And how did you react?" she asked, dryly.
"I told her I never seduce anyone prettier than me," he teased, smiling at her again.
"Seduce, hmm?" She always caught the little details.
He stroked her face gently. "I wanted you, even then," he admitted, feeling his stomach jump, even after all this time. "I want you still."
"That's why the dreams scare me so much," he continued, voice soft. "I can't imagine not having you here, not having you with me, building a future without you." His hand dropped to her stomach, to the child that was underneath it. Their child. Ravka's child.
"We're right here," Zoya told him, just as soft.
He just kept looking at her, feeling a wave of contentment crash into him. It hadn't been easy these last few years- endless negotiations between Ravka, Fjreda, and Shu Han, and additional conversations with the Kerch and Zemeni about their trade agreements. If he hadn't been at her side, he'd been doing business for the crown out at the seas, escorting Kaz Brekker and his fellow barrel rats into near death.
But now, it was time to rest. Genya had told them again and again that they wouldn't be resting for long, eyes narrowed at Zoya's stomach. But he didn't see it that way. And to his surprise, Zoya didn't either. She'd been excited since the moment she'd told him, glowing even more than normal. These last few years had done her well. Responsibility suited her. She was still as abrupt and direct as ever, but more and more, Nikolai saw her sharing her heart with others around her, besides him and Genya. It was winning her more and more loyalty around their country, and Nikolai felt smug that the rest of Ravka was finally seeing what he'd seen in her all along.
Brekker had asked him once if he had regretted giving up his throne, and now, more than two years on, he could gladly say he did not. Nikolai was sure he would have been a good king, could have made it work even with his demon and his bastardy on display, but he wouldn't have had Zoya. He wouldn't have been able to take action like he so often did these days, taking off from the palace with no one to be accountable to except for his wife. He could spend days in his workshops, working on things besides weapons of war, or up in the sky, watching the movement of their troops, or at sea, whether as Prince Nikolai, or Strumhound.
The only thing he regretted was that Zoya could not always be with him. He dreamed of a time in the future, when the little baby in her stomach was old enough to sit the throne, just as competent and confident as their mother, and he could whisk her away on the Volkvolny, show her the world from the bow of his ship, as he'd always promised.
But there was time. They had so much time, now. It was more than he had ever imagined they'd be gifted.
He stroked her face. “If this is the dream, don’t wake me,” he whispered, voice soft.
She looked up at him, eyes alight. “I suppose, this one time, I’ll let you be,” she teased. “But only if you promise to be here when I wake.”
Nikolai smiled. “Always, my tsaritsa.”