Chapter Text
“I'm here to discuss our marriage,” Nikolai says, as direct and to the point as he'd promised to be. Kaz stares at him, unsure if he's supposed to be laughing or not. Nikolai looks like the closest thing someone like him could even get to nervous, and that's the only reason Kaz isn't assuming he's playing some new joke on him.
“Excuse me?” Kaz says, because it feels like the kinder alternative to ‘what the fuck do you mean you're here to discuss our marriage. ’
“The offer still stands, if you want it. I won’t actually expect you to wear a wedding dress.”
There's a million thoughts going through his head, and none of them are cohesive at all. “You’d still marry me?”
“I made a promise,” Nikolai says. “I’m a man of my word.”
Ha. It feels like a cruel joke for Nikolai to say, but he hasn’t been privy to the thoughts pounding again and again in Kaz’s head for the last month. A man of his word. Kaz was a man of his word once too– before the Darkling, before everything– it used to be the most defining thing about him. In this process of remaking himself, figuring out who he was and who he is now and who he wants to be, could he not become one again? It all begins with one choice. He made a deal with the Darkling that he'd never intended on keeping, and it ruined everything.
What would change if he kept this promise?
It's absurd. This entire line of thinking is absurd. There are too many other factors; a trillion and one reasons why he should say no.
“Should I be kind enough to relieve you of your obligations then?” Kaz asks, because it seems like a kinder thing to say than ‘fuck off.’ “You hardly need me to boost your credibility, now. The throne is yours.”
“I’m not asking you because I need you, I'm asking you because I want you.”
Kaz feels his face heating slightly at the phrasing. How does he always just say things?
Nkolai keeps going. “You could lead the Second Army, help us rebuild. This is the throne that you fought for.”
Kaz wants to laugh, or he wants to scream instead. He doesn’t want to lead, he doesn’t want to rebuild. He doesn’t give a fuck about this country or anyone in it, he doesn’t care about Nikolai, he doesn’t care about the crown on his head or the one he’s offering Kaz––
Liar liar liar liar liar. Our country, you’ve said it’s our country.
-–He just wants to go home, home to Ketterdam, home to the slat, home to sleepless nights and uncertainty and getting his hands dirty and wet with blood.
Kaz won, he fucking won, he shouldn’t still feel like he’s grieving. Why the fuck does it feel like he’s grieving?
It isn't his home anymore, he knows. He feels like he's grieving because he is: for the first time, he has to reckon with the fact that the city he returns to, if he chooses to return to it, will never be what it used to be. What do you do when the place you're homesick for isn't just a place, it's a time? It's a person he's not anymore, no matter how much he wishes he could threaten and force everyone around him to simply pretend he's never changed at all.
He's glowing, for fuck's sake. He might just be the most famous person alive. People like him don't belong in the Barrel, not anymore. The thought makes him want to recoil, to crawl into himself and just disappear. It isn't fair that the Darkling could be wrong about so many things, but right about this.
Nikolai is looking at him for an answer, and he looks so…hopeful. He actually thinks Kaz can give anyone here any kind of chance? He genuinely doesn’t seem to realize that the best thing Kaz can do for this Saints-forsaken country is leave it? (But that’s not true, because Kaz is a Saint now, and he’s saved it once already. He didn’t forsake Ravka; no one would let him. And even now it’s trying to grab him by the throat and keep him here forever).
“The throne I fought for wasn’t as comfortable as I was promised,” Kaz says. He can't get over just how sad his voice sounds when he says it. He doesn't want to sound sad.
“We could do something about that. Reupholster.”
“The throne I fought for is for you. I’ve learned by now that it wasn’t meant to be shared.”
“Ruling alongside me would look very different than ruling alongside him, you know.”
“I believe you,” Kaz shrugs. Genya's words about powerful men are still pounding in his ear, but who's more powerful than Kaz?
“I would actually listen to your input, for one. You’re wise, shrewd, powerful, not bad to look at. Fjerda may hate you, but the people here love you. We could be happy together, or something close to it.”
“I said I believe you,” Kaz says again, even though he really doesn't believe for a second that the Ravkan people actually love him. He's already fallen for that trick once, from Nikolai. “You don’t have to convince me you’re better than the Darkling.”
“Will you consider it, then?”
Kaz just stares at him.
“Is that your ‘considering’ face?” Nikolai asks when Kaz doesn't answer. “At least listen to my pitch. I worked hard on it.”
“Was that not it?”
“No.”
Kaz sighs. “Let me tell you why I don't need to hear your pitch to know it won't be compelling. We're cruel to each other, needlessly and even now. You didn't wait more than five minutes after coming in here to accuse me of intentionally killing our army, saying I ‘struck them down for my master’, and for my part, it was my idea to kill your brother, and I refused to leave your father alive when he tried to. We can't get through a single conversation without saying horrible things to each other. You hate me and I–”
“I do?”
“Well, yes,” Kaz answers. “You should want me dead.”
“That's news to me. I don't want there to be animosity between us. I don't see why there should be, honestly. I would hope, after all that we've been through together, that you might even consider me a friend. I tried to hold you accountable for things you had no control over, and you killed my family. Can we not call that even?”
It sounds ridiculous when it's phrased like that. That must be why he phrased it like that.
He does consider Nikolai a friend. Of course he does, as painful as it is to admit. Nikolai annoys him, infuriates him, acts as a regular and consistent thorn in his side throughout many of his plans. But he believed in him when Kaz gave him very little reason to, he fought for him and convinced others to fight for him as well even if Kaz made him live to regret it, he's still here bringing Kaz new gloves and trying to have a conversation about everything despite Kaz's continued aggression. And Kaz was more torn up than he'd like to admit about the way that he had to continuously throw Nikolai under the bus time and time again for his own plans. They could make a good team. They do make a good team. He only explicitly called Kaz a whore once, which is actually much fewer than the average amount of times the word and Kaz's name have been spoken in the same breath this year.
All of that aside, in all honesty, Kaz probably does owe him quite a bit. He wants to be someone who repays his debts again, like he used to be, and maybe that's why he's refusing to acknowledge he might owe this one. The deal is the deal. You could start with this. It's ridiculous to think that he might owe Nikolai a marriage, but…he owes him an open mind.
“Alright,” Kaz exhales. “What's your pitch, then? Make it good.”
“I’ve thought a lot about what it would look like if you said yes–”
“Romantic,” Kaz scoffs.
“No,” Nikolai shakes his head, addressing it as though romance were a serious proposition from him. “Not like that at all, unless both of us wanted it to be. I'm not the Darkling. I'm not going to force you to pretend that this is more than it is. Political marriages don't require affection. They don't require anything more than mutual respect, which I should hope we have. If, someday, we wanted it to be something more…it's not an impossibility, but that choice would be yours to make. Two people either love each other or they don't, but you can't force it, and I think you've spent enough of your time here having to pretend to feel ways that you don't.”
Kaz…doesn't know what to say to this. It's a horrible sensation that's been happening to him more and more, not knowing what to say. He'd been teasing, or trying to tease, but Nikolai's answer is so earnest. It so exactly addresses what Kaz was most afraid of. Nikolai knows Kaz better than Kaz wants him to; that might be the biggest problem with a marriage. He's just so tired of being seen.
Then there's the issue of ‘if, someday, we wanted it to be something more,’ which is sticking in Kaz's head like a song he doesn't even know the words to. He doesn't know how to feel about it, the potential being put on the table like it's at all possible.
“Fine,” Kaz finally says. “Well, carry on, then.”
“Right,” Nikolai nods. “I think we make an excellent pair. I think you're a genius, and if the Darkling had actually let you plot with him and given you equal say in how the two of you took over the world, my head would be on a platter right now. You've been underutilized, and I won't make that mistake.”
“Trying to win me with flattery?” Kaz asks, as if it isn't touching something deep inside of him, scratching at it.
“Not flattery, just honesty.” Nikolai's eyes are still locked with Kaz's. There's so much sincerity behind them that it hurts. The Darkling was sincere, too, Kaz thinks, tracing over the ring on his finger. He believed everything he said about wanting Kaz as an equal. Nikolai continues, “I'm not interested in keeping you on display like he was or in treating you like a symbol. That would be the biggest waste in human history. In fact, I think you would do more for my reputation if you weren't ever paraded around in front of a crowd, to be quite honest. The Ravkan people always love you more when you don't speak to them.”
“Wow, thank you.”
“Don't act offended, you agree, and it's what you want as well. You wouldn't be required to occupy any public role unless you choose to.”
“What would you tell them?” Kaz asks. “The people, I mean. Do you plan to stand in front of the whole world and paint me as some poor, abused victim? Or will it really be healthy for your image if they think I was a tyrant's lapdog by choice?”
The words are harsh as they leave his lips, and it feels….wrong…to voice any of these things about himself out loud. But it's what people are saying. He doesn't need to be out there to know any of that.
“You could be the one to come up with whatever story you want about what happened, and I'll agree. They'll hear it from me, yes, but it's your words. And as far as governance, you can trust that although I'll make decisions with my advisors, your input would be part of the process. I've shown you that I'm capable of deferring to your judgment in the past about how to handle situations, and I can do that again. Your veto will mean as much as mine.”
“You trusted me, you deferred to my judgment, and I failed. You would make that mistake again?”
“Is this what you call failure?” Nikolai asks. “The Darkling is dead, the Fold is destroyed. This is not how I would have preferred for it to happen, but you did the two jobs you were given. I was on the offensive when I came in here, I’ll admit, because I wasn’t sure what to expect from you. But we always knew that you losing control of the third amplifier was a possibility, and instead of being the worst-case-scenario we imagined it would be, you crawled back from it.”
“Sure, maybe,” Kaz says, but he sounds unconvinced. “You said I wouldn't have to occupy a public role unless I chose to, but what of the Second Army?”
“It needs a new leader, clearly. You don't have to say yes, but I would like it to be you. You didn’t seem to like how things were done before, so I would like to hear what ideas you do have. You’re fiercely loyal to your people, and they’re loyal to you. I don’t doubt that eventually you could foster that same level of loyalty and efficiency from the Grisha here as you did your gang back in Ketterdan. Your people need you.”
“My people do need me. In Ketterdam. The Grisha are not my people. I don’t care what happens in The Little Palace. There are plenty of people who would do a much better job leading than I would. Someone who actually grew up here, for example. Have Zoya lead.”
“You’re only suggesting her because she’s the only Grisha whose name you know off the top of your head.”
“And?”
“She is competent, I’ll give her that. She did a lot to help me prop you up, once she decided to agree you were our best bet.”
“Okay,” Kaz replies. Why is Nikolai telling him this? He’s not going to become friends with her. He highly doubts she wants that, anyway. She doesn’t like Kaz, she only decided to hate the Darkling more. “What about Ketterdam, then?”
“You wouldn’t be a prisoner here. You could visit often, move between Ravka and Ketterdam freely. We could visit together, as well, on diplomatic visits, although diplomatic cover would never be your only option. I'm not asking you to abandon Ketterdam, and if that's what you think, you can clear the notion from your head. I'm just asking you not to disappear into it.”
Kaz looks at him, and Nikolai looks back. I'm not asking you to abandon Ketterdam. It is true that there's no Fold standing between the two nations anymore. Ravka isn't split in two, either. Kaz has been staring straight at a dichotomy that doesn't exist. He can have both. Someone wants him to have both.
“Can I be honest with you?” Nkolai says, almost hesitantly.
“Have you not been from the start?”
“I have, but I'd like to be a little more honest.”
“Just spit it out, and if I don't like it, I'll melt your bones.”
Nikolai frowns. “Is that something you're capable of?”
“We could find out together,” Kaz shrugs.
“Most of your objections are not actually about Ravka. Or the Second Army. Or even about me,” Nikolai begins, and Kaz feels his stomach start to drop a bit. “They're about you, and what you think you're capable of. You call my well-earned compliments flattery, you say the Ravkan people won't accept you because of what you've done, you say I shouldn't defer to your judgment because you've failed in the past, you say you shouldn't lead the Second Army because you weren't raised here and wouldn't be good at it. It just sounds to me like the problem is less that no part of you wants to accept my proposal, and more that you're afraid you won't be good at it.”
Kaz bristles at the accusation. Nikolai's lucky Kaz doesn't set him on fire. If he were any other person (or even if Kaz were in a less fragile state), he would have. His impulse is to bite back that he's not afraid, but…he can't say it. Instead, the most he can manage is: “The food here is also shit.”
“We can import food that's more to your taste,” Nikolai replies. “Every complaint you have is an easy fix.”
“It's cold here.”
“You're a walking sun,” Nikolai gestures to him. Kaz looks down to find that he’s glowing again, maybe a little bit brighter than he had been before. He's going to have to get that under control.
The truth, if he's going to admit it to himself, is that he wants it. He wants it more than he can say. He wants it with the same pull and temptation as he wanted money and power and glory and a throne when the Darkling first offered it to him. The fact that he could have it and not lose Ketterdam— that he could use whatever forces he has in Ravka to help bring Pekka Rollins to his knees and reshape the city to his whims— feels too good to be true. He's been promised so much and had it ripped away from him every single time.
The Stag, Rusalye, the Fire Bird. The Darkling. He's seen what seeking power does, and he is afraid, but he's not sure it's failure that he's afraid of.
He's the Sun Summoner. He's the Savior of Ravka. He's Sankt Kaz of the Fold. He's Kaz Brekker, and he's going to keep his word again this time.
“The wedding can't be a large affair,” Kaz says. “I don't care if it's a royal wedding. Publish whatever propaganda about it you want, but it's going to be as small as I'm allowed to request it be.”
Nikolai blinks once. He's surprised. Kaz has caught him off guard. Good, because he likes him like that.
“Noted.”
Kaz doesn't stop. Now that he's started, he may as well keep going. “As you promised, I'm not going to give any speeches. There won't be any public declarations about me that I didn’t explicitly approve of first. I'm going to Ketterdam often, and you can't stop me. If anything, you'll design a ship with that big brain of yours to get me there even faster.”
Nikolai grins, “You think my brain is big?”
“Only because it had to swell up to fit inside your massive head,” Kaz snaps. “You'll never put me in front of anyone without warning. If I'm expected to be anywhere, I want to know why and who and what they think they're going to get from me.”
“Of course,” Nikolai agrees.
“I'm not leading the Second Army. We'll set up some kind of council for it. I'll give my opinions, but I'm not leading it. Not because I think I'll be bad at it, I don't care how competent you think I'll be, I simply don't want to do it. I won't live in the Little Palace, either. I hate it here and I won't spend any more time here than I have to.”
“I understand,” Nikolai nods. Kaz isn't sure that the Grand Palace, with all its memories, is all that much better, but he'll take what he can get.
He still has more demands. Once he'd started sharing them, he found he couldn't seem to stop. The idea of his choosing this is taking shape in his mind and bringing with it every possible stipulation. “Even if I'm not in charge, though, I still want information. You'll tell me everything, even things you don't think are relevant to me. I don't want to just sit around wondering what's happening. It won't be my responsibility, but I want to know it. What else? I'll come and go as I please. No door is locked to me.”
“Naturally.”
“And I can leave at any time, if I change my mind.”
There's a shift in Nikolai's expression, a frown, and for the first time, hesitation. “That's not really how a marriage works.”
Kaz holds up his ring finger, where the Darkling's bones sit. “This isn't really how an amplifier works either. You'll find I don't care much what's ‘supposed’ to happen.”
Nikolai opens his mouth, then shuts it again, considering his next words carefully. “I want you to stay because you want to. I'll do what I can to make this arrangement something that you won't want to leave. I'm not going to trap you. But I hope that if you do have regrets, you'll speak with me first so that we can attempt to work them out.”
Kaz supposes that is fair. Nikolai won't stop Kaz from leaving, but Kaz won't leave without at least giving him a chance to fix things. It could work. It's an arrangement unlike anything proposed by the Darkling.
He can't believe he's going to say yes to this.
“It's a deal then.” He slips on the gloves Nikolai brought him earlier. They fit perfectly. He holds out a hand to shake Nikolai's, and Nikolai takes Kaz's hand in his. He feels right about this choice in a way he hasn't felt right in ages.
The place he loves isn't his anymore, and the place he loathes is his to change as he likes. His life has often seemed like a sick joke, and he thinks he's finally found the punchline. He's angry about so many things; he can't seem to be that mad about this one.
“You're going to have to try not to fall in love with me,” Nikolai grins.
“However will I manage?” Kaz says flatly, but his hand is still in Nikolai's.