tuskslove

NIKOLAI & ALINA

SHADOW AND BONE

❛ what of value is possibly accomplished by the keeping of secrets from one's wife? ❜ ultimately, it's the insignificant question of the two, but if she must go step by step to counterbalance his stubbornness, to give him less leeway within which he might twist away from the point, then so be it.

❛ well, for starters, to avoid any other misconceptions, i would ask what you see as value in that question? ❜ he says, lacing his hands over his stomach. he has learned from her, that much is certain, that much was a necessity: learned how to misdirect a conversation until it bears little resemblance to what was originally being discussed. otherwise, he would never have discovered how to dance her back around to any serious discussion.

what sort of insane scientist was behind this experiment??

lottie realizes, a moment too late, just whom she was speaking to. she grimaces. ❛ no, don't answer that. ❜ in the same breath, as if to keep him from answering it, she plows ahead. ❛ but hear me out! they wouldn't need captain sisko's approval. if such an experiment was being run, the fewer people who knew about it the better... and especially people's commanding officers. if they all knew, then it wouldn't stay secret for long. but if only those directly involved — and their superiors, of course — knew... if permission was coming from much higher up the chain of command... that would be the only way to go undetected for all this time! ❜

and on some level, buried beneath the noise of his own indignation, he recognizes he has dragged lottie down to his level. instead of being her useful self, she was going toe-to-toe with him.

without anyone to reign in his worst impulses, he simply continues ruminating, stewing in his fear and anger, all elbows. ❛⠀too late,⠀❜ he interrupts again, scoffing, missing the start of her monologue entirely.

❛⠀do you mock me ?  ❜

the words burst out of her before she could help herself. suddenly, all at once, it feels as though every restrained composure she has kept are threatened singularly by this piercing remarks. she knows not if he'd meant it as a jest, or in a way that reflects his mischievousness: manoeuvring their talks so she could possibly admit that her heart has indeed been stolen by the boy-sailor of her youth, but in the moment, all rhea could remember were the countless fights and accusations she'd endured each time her so-called lord husband cursed her of her honourable front. deride her of their marriage bed he will never grace.

as though rhea had the full say of their marriage in the first place. as though she, too, was not wounded by the promises that his family had not kept, had betrayed her with. daemon targaryen's unrelenting defiance is inspiring only to the way she applies it in her lordship. in his shadow, she learnt to keep her chin high, to not bend so easily by the easy whims of men in her council. but beyond that, rhea had kept every hurt her lord husband had dealt her like they were still scars she, sometimes, could not help but itch.

some days, they still bleed.

and of course, of course, she understands that she too had dealt him her own wounds. she, too, in her fury for such blatant disrespect, have dug her knives deep and pulled her arrow tight in ensuring he is as injured as she. they are as much victims of each other, as they are the perpetrator — that much, rhea will not deny. still. still.

she is the abandoned, the unwanted.

and often, in such lonely nights – rarer now, thankfully – she wonders if she will always be just that : the woman anyone would abandon. the woman nobody would want. even klaus left. for war, of course — rhea understands as much. she too had went on with her marriage; had told him that their summers had meet its end. despite it all, did he still not left ? was it because of this : because she is difficult, and stubborn, and wilful ? because she is a lady made from the bedrock of her ancestors, and the woman who would not yield ? casting aside the need for affection for a chance at the littlest of respect ? is she truly, devastatingly heartless ? is that what her dearest klaus, her summer-heart, her newly-learned nikolai, thought of her ?

rhea feels her eyes burn, it stings with the threat of a tear, but she clenches her jaw. she pretends she isn't hurt. she goes to him, marches really, and snaps into his face :

❛⠀i buried it.  ❜

he had been using a false name, a false history, even a false accent, there had been many attempts at masks there too, but those were small and thin, and in the blinding summer sun of the royce lands, she saw through them all.

he would like now to think he allowed her to see through them all, make it about him, a youth still learning his trade, but it was rhea, it had always been rhea.

nikolai's hand reaches for her shoulder, gentle despite her roughness.

❛ good, ❜ he says, blonde hair falling over his eyes. ❛ i'll find it and return it to you. you must have heard the rumors. they call me a pirate. ❜ here he stops to roll his eyes, the hand on her shoulder squeezing, bringing her closer, unafraid of her fire. craving it, instead. ❛ which is just... i don't know how many times i have to repeat it, i am a privateer, what is the use of being king if i can't legalise my own activities? ❜

he opens his mouth to apologize again - but she has darted out of the room before he can stop her. wonderful. nothing like making a good impression in the neighborhood... he looks around again, opening a wardrobe, as if something will have materialized there in the past two minutes that might spare him him further humiliation. but, as expected, that sort of luck isn't on the cards for him today...

at the knock, he quickly shuts the wardrobe, once again feeling deeply, deeply foolish. the feeling isn't eased by the fact that she'll barely meet his eye now. she's holding out dry clothes to him, her gaze carefully trained on the carpet. " thank you, " he says, taking them from her with an awkward chuckle. " i was almost of a mind to put the wet things back on... " he pulls the shirt over his head quickly, sparing them both from any more awkward discomfort. he'll wait on the trousers... " oh, there's no need for you to do that - i wouldn't dream of putting you to any trouble. well... any more trouble. "

she is going to need to leave so he can change. thankfully, some men in this county still know better than to take their trousers off in mixed company.

❛ my mother, ❜ she says, an awkward laugh tumbling out of her. her mother. it could have been a stupid accident. it was possible her mother had simply tripped on an old floorboard and made the handsome doctor wet entirely by chance. except her mother did not trip. taggie knows that much for certain, because her mother had loved to remind her of it every time she came home as a child with bruised knees. good god, taggie, people will think i sent you off to war! look at the state of you.

as it is, however, that focus is bent rather towards the scrawl upon the page and his own recollections — he has read letters penned by her before, and there remain plenty of notes and records from the estate in her hand. uncomfortably, he clears his throat ❛ well. this ❜ — he points at a shape, turning the text to face her, the process made awkward by the desk between them — ❛ is her idea of a 'y' — her mistaken idea, I might add — and there's no distinguishing, except by context, many of her vowels. ❜

aunt billie is lovely, and edwina is certain she would explain it much better than her old ledger. looking down at her hands, she imagines the older woman would drag her into a field for a hands-on experience. and as she cares nothing for mulch, she can see herself hating every second of it.

she couldn't waste billie's time because she didn't know how to talk to her husband.

❛ i do love reading, ❜ she agrees, gentle as ever.

at the sound of his throat clearing, edwina startles. she was ready to leave, it was a dismissal, if she ever heard one. it takes a moment for her gaze to focus on what he is pointing, but when she does, a smile unfurls on her lips, brightening under his attention.

❛ now, see, if I lie to you, then you're going to turn around and be upset I lied. that's how this works, right? ❜ he gives her no time to attest otherwise, continuing emphatically, ❛ besides, it's not a good test if you know I'm lying, is it? because then I don't have to try, and you wouldn't believe me no matter what, so you wouldn't get to experience how utterly atrocious it really is. and, because I have to lie terribly to convince you, you'll just believe I wasn't trying. ❜

oh, boy. there really was no good way out of this.

for a moment, as she speaks, jester believes her own yarn. he could be lying! what does she really know about cameron other than he is a good man who has saved her lives countless times and has a country accent?

and if she needs to, she need not return wearing her own face. though not a trick she particularly cares for, it is, occasionally, a convenient one.

something nags at her, deep in her mind. she has seen him too many times now to be pure coincidence. if indeed he poses any risk, it lies in this fact.

she dismisses it, for now, as being of little concern. whatever risk that might be, it is nothing she cannot surmount. surely, it is less than attempting to silence him. ❛ and you have promised not to get in the way. ❜ you are right not to dare it, something in her tone suggests.

swift at work as ever, her raven swoops back, alighting once more upon her wrist, spare skeleton key — dredged up from the depths of the captain's desk. for a moment, the raven attempts to insert the key into the lock itself, but the metal is heavy, its efforts clumsy. one clang too loud and with little more than a flinch ksunye extends her other hand for the key and whisks him first away and then back, this time within the bars of the cell.

❛⠀i could say i am innocent and plan on proving as much tomorrow,⠀ ❜ he says, starting up, gathering his cloak from the floor, ❛⠀but that ship sailed when i promised not to stand in your way.⠀ ❜ stopping in front of her, christopher glances down, offering a bow. ❛⠀thank you.⠀ ❜

this drastically changes his plans. he had intended to have her for a few hours, all to himself, but she has bent time itself, and now she is about to slip through his fingers entirely. he is going to need to find a way to slow it back down. or buy himself more of it. ❛⠀i suppose it is my turn to lead the next part of this escape.⠀❜

" you know, this is my first time? " he says, offering her a smile as he settles into the plush seat beside her. " on air force one, i mean... "

usually, it's his boss who makes these trips with the president and his staff, while he holds down the fort in the white house. but thanks to a few scheduling wrinkles, he finally got the call. and he's not about to pretend he hasn't been curious... with any luck, his only job will be to follow along with the entourage and take in the spectacle of it all - before happily returning to his quiet office in the basement of the white house...

" but i bet this is all business as usual for you, isn't it? " he checks his watch, knowing it won't be long before he'll need to report back to the medical cabin. he and the rest of the team had already quadruple checked their supplies, but there were itineraries and procedures to go over during the long flight. " you're probably bored by -- sorry, are those m&m's with the presidential seal? "

besides, why did they even need a lawyer on the plane? was the president planning on lying to the american public again? okay, maybe that was uncalled for, and she'll beat herself up for it later, but she is nervous, and dwight is talking, and she usually loves hearing him talk, he has such a nice voice, but all she can hear is the roar of the engine of the plane that is probably going to kill her.

❛ why, to see how a subject handles being stranded a second time. for example, I might hypothesize that one would handle the experience better having been through the ordeal. however, perhaps one is more susceptible... ❜ it clicks then, the disparate pages they are on. ❛ oh, I see! you meant that they do not need to strand people for the observation of the locals, because they have perfected unobtrusive observation techniques. but I meant that we are the experiment. what about using their concealed observation stations to monitor the individuals of shuttle crashes? that's the interesting experiment here. ❜

what sort of insane scientist was behind this experiment??

You were up all night.

Do you know why?

That's why I was up all night. Where am I going?

You're going on vacation.

It's not a vacation.

It's a forced vacation.

You should fix your tie.

So we're going to do something about it.

I don't like new people.

Should I run back and get my Nobel Prize?

It's really not even... I don't want you to worry that much about it.

It really boils down to this I'm going to tell you a story and then I need you to tell me whether or not I've engaged 16 people in a massive criminal conspiracy to defraud the public

What can you tell me about this disease that I don't already know?

I want you.

He never lied.

I never lied.

You also understand no one here has said yes yet.

The number of people whose permission I need before I can do whatever the hell I want...

The number of people whose permission I need before I can do whatever the hell I want... Let me tell you something. There's really a lot to be said for fascism.

Funny you should mention that.

Then you've got to get a swinging light bulb in there and just do it.

Let me tell you something. I've found that if you accept that as a good enough reason for doing something life becomes easier.

Thanks for the fortune cookie wisdom.

You just lurk there in the shadows, like... Whatever. What are you doing?

I'm doing things, things with paper.

I had a couple of questions, if you don't mind.

Okay, it's going to be one of these now, right?

Well, yes, I suppose that's one small-minded way of putting it.

Just how smart are you?

I've got some game.

You look exactly the way you sound on the phone.

I'm less visually observant than others but I make up for it.

I am nowhere close to being able to answer that question.

I was going to be a little more circumspect.

And frankly -- and I don't say this to you enough -- doing a very good job.

AA's definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result. I think it's time for some tough love.

Well, not right here in front of everybody, but if you want to run home and get your equipment...

You did some decorating.

A woman's touch.

Talk about your chickens coming home to roost.

Maybe you're not as good as you think.

Fencing's good, 'cause you learn the philosophy of self-defense.

He's acting a little pissy, wouldn't you say?

You're a little pissy too, there, my friend.

Yeah, well, I'm pissed.

You absolutely did the right thing.

I can't lie like this anymore.

Are you saying it was you?

I feel horrible. I should've said something before, but I was afraid of what you'd...

No, let me get this off my chest. It was me.

I don't know. Why does anybody do anything?

What are you talking about?

You shouldn't feel bad about this.

Everyone hates me.

You're the first person who's understood that.

If you dunk the suspect in a deep well of water, and they drown, it means they're not a witch.

Why are you lying to me?

( he overlooks motivations far less flattering, far less logical, of course. does not see that he dared not lean upon anyone, dared not do anything but prove himself capable — or capitulate entirely. )

anthony's offer saves her the awkward conversation, and helps her with the original reason why she started searching for the book: she wants to understand the work that steals her husband for hours at a time. ❛⠀ i think if you help me with the first page, i can figure out the rest on my own, but i can't make anything out of it,⠀ ❜ she says, pressing the book into his outstretched hand.

repeat victim, she had nearly said.

❛ I am merely here by association! by sheer proximity! I might have had a smooth journey! ❜ of course, there is the matter of the fact that she had all but invited herself along rather than making her own way... but, really, someone ought to have warned her what she was getting into!

which, also technically made it not his fault, but rather that of the wholly fictional psychologists performing this particular experiment. she doesn't much care to provide him such grace.

when he comes back to himself, his fingers are no longer on the bridge of his nose but splayed on his face, his nose smushed under his palm. dropping his hand to his side, he starts pacing back and forth and talking. talking always makes him feel better. ❛ you are making assumptions based on no data. i was explaining to you that the federation does not need to crash its own citizens to observe people, you are the one who made this into a hellish experiment, which, well, psychologists. ❜

#the man was too stunned to speak