(moved)

He's been uncharacteristically quiet since the last battle and he's growing tired to using the excuse that the Darkling's torture damaged his vocal cords because, well, he's never been much of a screamer (except when spiders were involved) and there's something rather embarrassing about them possibly coming to that conclusion. How else could he have lost his voice?

He can't look weak. Not now. Not when he's about to become Ravka's king. Not when Ravka's already looks as though it's one strong wave away from sinking to the bottom of the sea.

Vasily is the last person he'd expected to see upon his return home. He finds himself tugging at his gloves, the material feeling so foreign. It doesn't feel like the place for them and yet now it seems they're to become a permanent piece of his wardrobe.

Nikolai instinctively raises his chin when Vasily calls him Kolya, though he knows he doesn't have to prove to him that he's more than that child who used to tote around the ratty old stuffed fox and convince his brother to eat worms. But some part of him is unsure if Vasily's truly happy to see him alive at all. If Vasily's alive then, well, the crown is his.

The embrace takes him by surprise and he finds himself flinching, still not completely comfortable in his own skin after all that's happened. "I..." Maybe Vasily's been sincere after all. "Thank you, Vasya. It's good to see you too, brother."

he feels nikolai flinch and vasily immediately unwraps his arms from him and backs away. through everything, he'd forgotten where they had last left things. they were getting better but they weren't great. and then they were attacked. because of vasily's own actions. and the events that followed that. "sorry." the words are soft, he doesn't know what else to say after everything.

vasily doesn't look at him, can't meet his eye. the unspoken issue hangs between them. "i hear you're to be king. i believe a congratulations are in order." the best brother won. he won't say them aloud. he can't yet. they both know it to be true. but it doesn't stop to the hurt in his chest. "i do ask what happened to father and mother. are they... dead?" if nikolai was to be crowned king, it was obvious their father was, at least, dead. the thought stung. their father wasn't perfect but he was still their dad. that would mean that, technically, vasily should be becoming king. he wonders if that's why nikolai flinched at his touch. "i'm not taking the crown from you. i don't w--" he stops, clearing his thought. that would be a lie. he does want it. he's wanted it since he was a kid, since he figured out he was going to rule after his father. but they both knew he wasn't right to rule. he's realized he's never finished his thought and he sighs. "-- i'm just not going to."

The soldier in him is cursing himself for showing any weakness. But the soldier in him also understands that men and women sometimes return from the battlefield having seen things that change them, that make them flinch. What has Ravka been these past few months than one large battlefield? It's difficult for any one of them to remain the same.

He doesn't acknowledge Vasily's apology. Why would he say 'it's okay' when it very clearly isn't? The last time he saw his brother... His gaze travels to the replacement arm and Nikolai's mind returns to the moment he watched his real arm separated from his body. He'd thought Vasily had died that day. He'd witnessed men die from less.

Vasily doesn't meet his eyes, but Nikolai's eyes bore holes into his brother. I hear you're to be king. He wonders if the bitterness he hears in Vasily's voice is imagined. He can't possibly think that birthright alone will pass the crown back to him, not while he's been absent in Ravka's time of need. "Thank you," he returns simply, not wanting to have this argument. He's tired and he's tired of this. "The former king and queen are in exile. I thought it best they never return to Ravka again." Vasily cannot be trusted with the where just yet. He may do something stupid again.

Nikolai opens his mouth to argue, but stops. Instead the sound that escapes him is a strained chuckle. As if Vasily could take the crown from him. His brother cannot... He feels a foreign sensation in his fingertips and flexes his gloved hands. Strange. Must be all part of the healing process, he tells himself. The Darkling is dead and so are his monsters. "I would appreciate it if you didn't yank the crown off of my head during my coronation. We've seen enough drama around here lately."

Genya and Zoya must have returned to the Little Palace, seeing as neither of them are currently hovering. Genya would be making some excuse about letting him rest and Zoya would, well, likely be telling Vasily that the future King of Ravka is not in need of any advice that may or may not result in yet another massacre. Perhaps it's for the best they're not lingering...

"Scholars!" Wendell exclaimed. "What do I always say? You are a mad lot. Taking up careers that could easily get you killed simply to have something to write about."

TWAS the night before the feast day, when all through the estate,  Not even Oncat was stirring, for it was too late. The orphans of Keramzin were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of buttery sweets danced in their heads.

A snowstorm had descended and covered the realm;  Making travel perilous, even with Grisha at the helm. But the children had been promised a visit and gifts handled with care;  They pleaded with Sankt Nikolai, hoping he would answer their prayer. 

I myself was bundled up in fur and set for the journey;  Telling Tolya, “Stop rhyming ‘cause we’re in a hurry.”  The horses did struggle for the sleigh was too heavy;  Overloaded with toys… we may have packed one too many. 

A stone’s throw from the palace, a tree blocked the path;  Giving us the option to only turn back.  But what of the children? We all thought with woe;  Their feast day can’t be spoiled ‘cause we’re stuck in the snow!

THEN a brilliant idea sprung into our minds; Another means of transport that could get us there in time! So we turned around the sleigh to sprint to Lazlayon;  And climbed aboard the first airship we laid eyes upon. 

WE took to the skies, I in the Captain’s seat;  Knowing getting to Keramzin on time would be a feat.  Visibility was low, with the sleet and the snow;  But then we saw lights from the orphanage below!